Kishi Kaisei
by AllyHaert
Summary: 起死回生 (kishi kaisei) Literally: To wake from death and return to life. Meaning: To come out of a desperate situation and make a complete return in one sudden burst. Loosely based on Silver Queen's 'Dreaming of Sunshine'. Follows events until Chap 95, then diverges from canon. Gaara/Shikako. All credit goes to the wonderful Silver Queen.
1. The Sash

Dawn was rising against the sky, streaks of red bleeding across the landscape.

Shikako shivered against a brisk blast of wind, listening to the sounds of camp breaking around her. Most of the rookies sat in a huddle, bags packed, waiting for the go ahead. The graduation ceremony had been days ago and nearly all of them had passed. The last two nights had been filled with a kind of celebratory revelry.

With so many nations and so many bored Jounin loitering, none of the newly minted Chunin felt the need to be guarded. Coupled with Grass Country's fabled entertainment, the group had been wild and happy. There was an unspoken acknowledgment in that air that the real world was looming and in true teenage rebellion her peers partied wilder than she thought entirely proper.

She knew they were experiencing that joy unique to children on the precipice of puberty, when internal and external forces finally agree that _Yes, we are adults._

There are times in life when the innocence and safety of childhood is shaken, moments when you're thrust into adult shoes before you feel ready.

Then there are moments like this one. Like hurdles in a race, or mountains to be climbed. You reach the summit of these moments and look down at what lays before you and your heart sings in your chest and you race down the other side wiser and older and that much further away from the childish world of before.

Shikako had known both, before, yet it didn't make the journey any less wondrous the second time.

She was changing. So were her friends.

To her left, Kiba was grumbling into his hands, hood pulled up against the rising light. Maybe it was too early or maybe he'd drunk too much the night before. Beside him, Ino was leaning into Chouji as if he was a windbreak. Most of the others had huddled together in clumps, all within arms reach. Quiet voices lifted and Shikako let the soft conversation wash over her as she watched the dawning sun.

Today, soon, they'd be on their way back. She'd been excited as the rest of them about the promotion, but now her head was buzzing with a hundred potential tasks. There was so little time and so much yet to do. It needled at her, something she'd pushed to the background too often. Maybe it was the cool breeze foreshadowing the change in seasons, maybe it was the way everyone around her was instinctively whispering as if the quiet morning was a holy observance and their modest porch a pew in a church.

Maybe she was more tired than she realized.

But it was there, buzzing at her, an itch under her skin. _Soon, soon, soon,_ it whispered. The inescapable pressure of a looming deadline.

For once, it wasn't her sensitivity that alerted her to his presence. It was the sudden halt of conversation around her and the collective awareness of her friends. Against her shoulder she felt Sasuke straighten and his chakra steadied, calm and ready somewhere in his chest.

Ten paces from their porch, waiting in the shade, the sand siblings stood.

There was an awkward standoff where everybody seemed to want someone else to break the silence.

"We came to say goodbye. We're leaving," Temari offered frankly.

"You did good, for Leaf-nin," Kankurou needled. Shikako half expected Kiba to protest, but he just grumbled into his hands without lifting his head. Kankurou noticeably did not look in Hinata's direction.

"Congratulations," this time from Tenten, polite but no less sincere. All three of the Sand siblings had made rank as well. There were a lot of notable promotions in this exam.

It took Shikako a moment to figure out what was off, then she realized that Gaara's gaze on their group wasn't broad and general. He was very pointedly staring at her.

Shikako's mind skipped through several possible scenarios before she took the prolonged eye contact as a signal and rose to her feet. Sasuke followed her, fluidly rising in sync, a steady presence at her side. Shikako put her hand out in a 'wait here' gesture and Sasuke lifted a single eyebrow, but he stayed in place as Shikako picked her way through the small crowd towards the Sand siblings.

Already the sky had darkened from red to an eye catching pink. It'd be daylight soon. On the edge of her senses she could feel Kurenai and Asuma looping back towards them in a slowly arching patrol. Somewhere over the grassy knoll to her left, the first field thrush of the morning started to sing. Away from the lee of the porch the wind was chilly and gusted with wintery intent.

Shikako stopped a few steps away from the three and tried to ignore how all of her friends were politely pretending not to listen at her back. She couldn't exactly wander off with foreign nin, so this was all the privacy they'd get. Even if Tsunade hadn't ordered them to stay in pairs, it would be suspicious to go off on her own with three such politically notable shinobi. If Gaara had something sensitive to communicate, he could signal it discreetly from here and that would have to be enough.

"Thank you for the match. You fought well," Gaara murmured. No matter how many times she heard it, Shikako always found herself a bit startled by the deepness of his voice. Judging by appearance, one would expect a higher, more childish tone. But his voice is deep and heavy and it always takes a second to mentally adjust.

"You're welcome. It was nice to be able to not hold back," Shikako smiled. She had no idea where he was going with this.

"That thing with the pillars was unreal, Sparky," Kankurou scratched the side of his nose and grinned when Shikako gave him a look. "Never knew you could do that with seals. Shit's something else."

"Typically, you wouldn't. It requires measurements of the soil composition that are tedious and exhaustive, and the chakra output and seal preparation are impractical in real-time battle conditions," Shikako slipped into lecture mode almost on accident.

"Huh," Kankurou's gaze was assessing. "Still, it was impressive. Never thought anyone could give Gaara a run like that, eh man?" He reached over and tapped Gaara on the shoulder.

"Your approach was well planned. I...appreciated the tactics you used," Gaara looked deeply thoughtful. "You were creative." _Thank you for showing me my weaknesses._

"I learned a lot from it," Shikako replied honestly. _You're welcome._

"Your teammate is a beast, too. And isn't Naruto on your team as well? That seems a bit much for one squad," Temari looked over her shoulder to where Sasuke was leaning against the porch railings.

"You'd be surprised," Shikako muttered.

"It's wise. Together, you are strong enough to face the challenges in your path," Gaara was staring at her, so he must have noticed her sharp look at that. "It has helped you in the past. I think it will continue to help you."

Shikako nodded slowly. He must have heard about Naruto leaving, somehow, and was referring to that. Gaara _had_ been asking after Naruto at the start of these exams, maybe he'd discovered that Naruto'd left for training? But maybe Gaara was making an allusion to something else, something that would try to split her team up in the future?

Shikako looked back and forth between the three, trying to parse it out. Gaara frowned and made an aborted motion, as if to step closer or reach out to her.

"Your team," Gaara looked frustrated, like his thoughts were a struggle to voice. "They face things many don't. Things others will _never_ face."

He glanced briefly at her chest, a quick flicker of his gaze, and she frowned.

"I thought once that the true measure of power was the ability to keep yourself alive. But sometimes, power isn't enough. True strength comes from those around us."

Oh.

 _Oh._

And then it clicked. Gaara was there, at Gelel, when the sword...

He'd seen her die. Sometimes the trauma of that moment, of Shikamaru and Naruto and the nine tailed fox and the stones and just all of it, it made her forget. Gaara had witnessed that too, him and both his siblings. She looked down and fidgeted, suddenly unsure how to feel about that.

Off in the distance, the field thrush stopped singing.

"You'll be strong," Gaara sounded so sure that Shikako looked up and met his gaze. The seafoam of his eyes burned with piercing intensity and he sounded like he was prophesying, like he could see into the future and _knew_.

Shikako suddenly doubted herself, thinking she misread this whole thing. She'd give anything not to be having such a personal conversation, especially one with so many spectators. The pause stretched just this side of polite before Shikako leaned into it. _No way out but through._

"So will you. We both will be," She hoped her voice sounded normal.

"Because we have others," Gaara's voice was soft and deep.

"Yes, because we have others," Shikako viciously struck down a blush that threatened to bloom high across her cheeks.

"Ugh, we need to go," Temari was already looking away from them, like the sheer emotion on display was beneath her. Shikako glanced at Kankurou then, catching his eye on accident. He was staring at her with an odd look on his face.

"Thank you," Gaara said with a small bow of his head, shifting to turn and walk away.

"What are friends for?" Shikako sounded nervous, even to her own ears.

Gaara froze completely, mid step. Slowly, like a porcelain figure on top of a jewelry box, Gaara turned in place until he faced her again.

"Friends," Gaara put stress on the word and Shikako started to panic. This again? Oh god, she just wanted to go back to bed. _What fresh hell is this._

"Uh," she stalled intelligently.

Behind her she heard something that sounded suspiciously like Ino smothering a laugh.

Slowly, like he wanted to telegraph his movements, Gaara reached down to the loose end of the red sash securing his robes. With one hand he grabbed the red fabric and with precise, methodical ease he slipped a blade out and cleanly sliced off the end of the sash.

The square of blood red fabric fluttered loosely into his fist and he held it out to Shikako. She grabbed it gingerly, surprised at the softness of it.

A glance down told her the fabric was silk, a fine example. At that distance she could see a daintily embroidered pattern depicting a spiky lizard. It faced a symbol that looked like the sun, then appeared to wrap around the sun, then swallowed it whole in the next scene. The final picture showed the lizard with the sun shining from it's belly. The pattern repeated in careful detail, the whole of it dyed a rich, vibrant red. It felt significant. When Shikako looked up, Temari was focused on the small patch of silk and Kankurou's eyebrows were somewhere in his hairline.

"Er," Shikako was just _full_ of witty banter this morning.

"Proof," Gaara was unreadable. "That we are friends."

Then he turned and started to walk away. With one last look, his siblings left as well and it wasn't long before they passed over the grassy hill and out of sight. Shikako was fixed on the fabric in her hands, the only red left in the landscape.

When she turned around, all of her friends were staring at the cloth. Shikako knew she probably looked as confused as she felt. She drew near and gave Ino a look that must have screamed _what the fuck just happened_ , because Ino burst out laughing.

There will be questions. She'll have to explain this somehow. Shikako sighed and looked up at the sky.

It was fully blue, no trace of pink left. Somewhere in the distance a field thrush bursts into song again.

A brand new day.

ooo

 **A/N**

I'm a long time reader of Silver Queen's masterpiece "Dreaming of Sunshine". I guess it kind of goes without saying that I'm rooting for a Gaara and Shikako pairing. This fic will be a collection of "what if" scenes loosely based on DoS that fill my need for more scenes between the two of them.

Thanks for reading!

 **Edit 08/22/15**

I no longer have plans to run this as a collection of one-shots, but as a cohesive story with continuing themes and a singular plot. Please disregard my previous statements about this being a collection of stand-alone scenes. Thank you.


	2. Hokage's Orders

Shikako sat in an empty conference room considering the merits of three different types of stationary and letterhead. She was in a _conference_ room, considering _stationary._

It had come to this.

They'd been back in Konoha almost a month. Three weeks and some change. Twenty-six days, if you want to split hairs.

That's an alarmingly short amount of time for Shikako's new promotion to lose it's shine, but there it is.

She thought back to Naruto earning his vest, how the pride never really faded from his eyes. Every time she watched him put that Chunin vest on she was reminded of prayer. He treated it with such reverence. He seemed so proud, so happy, so motivated.

She looked over the sea of paperwork on the table and wondered where it all went wrong for her.

Not even a month.

She rubbed her eyes and pushed back from the table, noting the time on the clock above the door.

She only had herself to blame, really. Her only thought during the exam had been securing her promotion. She'd been very motivated, to that end. So motivated, in fact, that she hadn't thought through the ramifications of some of the choices she'd made.

You see, the wonderful thing about seals was that even civilians could use them, given a minimal amount of training. Most seals that preformed prearranged tasks didn't need to be activated through deliberate chakra usage. In fact, there were many seals used by hospital staff that required only the handling of human hands or direct application to a patient's skin to activate.

Ninjutsu? That might as well be magic as far as most people were concerned. Ninjas used their secret handsignals and their mystical spell incantations and _Whoosh!_ Giant fireball out of nowhere. Downright unnatural, when you think about it. But seals? Those were just a part of life.

Merchants used seals to store things and to transport them. Banks used seals to lock boxes and monitor inventory. Farmers used seals to keep foodstuffs in cold storage during peak heat. Monks even used seals to bless or cleanse things (though Shikako couldn't really speak to the validity of that practice).

Seals were everywhere, when you paid attention.

But _new_ seals. New seals were _rare_.

And in that regard, Shikako had accomplished her goal and more. Everyone far and wide sat up and took notice. She had tip-toed into seal innovation before, though she largely considered that whole fiasco a red taped blunder, one never to be repeated. She was perfectly content to keep her research and development geared more towards the combat property of seals.

Not many fussed over the safety and vetting of a seal _intended_ for harm.

Shikako had felt secure in her ability to steer clear of any of that bureaucratic nonsense. And so she withdrew, kept her findings close to her chest. She abandoned some of her more altruistic seals, things she had once upon a time imagined circulating into the general public. There was a hard focus on battle application now.

And up until now, it had worked. No one had put demands on her research, no one felt privy to her time. There were no pointed expectations that she would pursue one thing to the exclusion of others.

Shikako was surprised to realize how much of that had to do with her rank as a Genin.

She'd been set upon almost from the very moment their group had returned to the village. Surely, there were more useful things she could be doing with her time? But with rank came obligation.

Shikako had been rueful when her first full day back had come with standing orders to report to her local Chunin chapter for debriefing and consultation.

It had never really occurred to Shikako that there were other bases of operation within Konoha's walls besides the Hokage tower and it's adjacent buildings. Or rather, she had never really had much _need_ to think about the inner workings of the Chunin ranks. Her entire career up until that point had been in the academy, or reporting for duty in the assignment office on the fourth floor of the tower, or on rare occasions giving reports to the Hokage herself.

It made sense, now that she thought about it.

The Genin Corps had their own building for operations, the vast majority of them used as a manual labor workforce to bolster the civilian sector. There was an office near the outer walls that housed the patrol headquarters, responsible for gate postings and patrol duty rosters. It stood to reason that Chunin, given that their ranks numbered in the thousands, would have other offices to work out of as well.

Jounin were a rare breed, statistically speaking. The vast majority of career ninja would never make the rank of Jounin, whether through bodily limitations or lack of drive. It just didn't happen that often. And of those that did, most Jounin or Special Jounin ended up in specialized fields such as Anbu or the Hokage Guard, which thinned their ranks even further. Those that remained were managed by the Jounin Commander, the Assistant Jounin Commander, the High General, and the Hokage herself.

As for the Genin teams assigned to the tutelage of Jounin instructors, there were never more than a dozen of those teams active at any given time. Historically speaking they were filled with the next generation's Jounin hopefuls. That was significant precedent for keeping those teams under the watchful eye of the whole Konoha administration.

Once you achieved the rank of Chunin your role in the village changed, much to Shikako's chagrin.

There was the unspoken assumption that if you were Chunin, you could manage yourself. Shikako observed this in all of her peers, who dispersed to different satellite offices and started carving their own niche.

There was no longer the constant hand holding of their Jounin instructors or the dependable camaraderie of their Genin teammates. It was sink or swim. More missions opened up, more options became available. And to an extent the ability to pick and choose your own missions remained, but there were new expectations as well.

There was pressure to compete, to make a name for yourself. Shikako had hardly seen Ino since they'd returned, her blonde friend disappearing into back to back recon missions, her camouflage affinity in high demand.

When the dust settled Shikako was sure her classmates would start making more time for each other. But they were all so busy learning the ropes that socialization had dropped off most of their to-do lists. Teams were no longer the predictable, rote things of the past. Shikako appreciated the heavy focus Konoha had put on teamwork because without it, life as a Chunin would have been impossible.

You could be on a five man recon team one day, then a two person stealth unit the next. It wasn't unusual to be hand picked for teams because you and the other shinobi on the unit shared a single skill that was in demand. When the mission was done the team would disband and on to the next job you'd move.

It was painfully obvious at that point that special allowances had been made for Shika, Shino and Naruto to remain in full rotation with their teammates. If Genin were the bread and butter and Jounin were the eccentric few, Chunin were the pillars on which the shinobi community stood.

There were Chunin of all specializations, of all ages, of all backgrounds. Shikako had never met a shinobi who had _aged out_ of the system before until she started getting around in Chunin circles. That Shika, Shino and Naruto had been grouped together exclusively with friends their own age defied mere chance.

It was an intentional move, probably motivated by the number of clan heirs and promising talent in the rookies of her generation. There were some important people that were invested in seeing her and her classmates succeed.

But Naruto was gone now, and everyone else seemed to be moving on as well.

It would have made her sad, if Shikako had been any less busy. Who had time for feelings when there was work, work, work.

Shikako wasn't even three hours into her first mission – a Chunin level assessment of the village's water systems to establish threat level, gauge weaknesses in the system, and maintain the seals that pressurized the hydraulics plant – when she was pulled off active duty and told to report to Tsunade's office.

Shikako had thought disappearing into the drudgery of the Chunin masses was bad. Being singled out of them was worse.

She couldn't remember a time when she'd had to report to the Hokage by herself. There'd always been the buffer of teammates or teachers or family. It was a different beast standing on the other side of that desk, knowing you were the sole focus of Tsunade's considerable attentions.

Shikako had recognized that small kernel of panic where it squirmed in her belly. She accepted it for the dark, crushing pinprick of fear that it was. Then she carefully and calmly shoved it deep inside, to be dealt with after this was over.

Tsunade hadn't kept her in the dark for long.

"You've been holding out on us, Nara," Tsunade was looking at a paper on her desk with open distaste, but Shikako suspected Tsunade was paying more attention to her than she appeared.

Shikako's eyes flicked down to the offending document. Was it something to do with her? Or was it simply something else that had momentarily caught the Hokage's eye? It was a brief glance, but when she looked back up Tsunade was watching her, chin propped up on a hand with immaculately manicured nails.

Shikako was being prompted to talk here, in this pause.

She waited silently.

Eventually Tsunade grimaced. "Doesn't matter now, it's perfect timing as it is. We haven't had someone well read up on seals for a while now," she started tapping the desk absently with her other hand. "Effective immediately I want you to put together a four person review board. You'll be tasked with assessing the viability of products being offered to Konoha from our allied nations during the next two months.

"You'll also need to create three marketable products for merchandising. Civilian or shinobi, I don't care much who you market your seals towards. Although," Tsunade narrowed her eyes at Shikako. "Don't offer them any crazy explosives."

"I wasn't, I mean that's not," Shikako stammerred, overwhelmed. For some reason, her reputation as a demolitions fanatic reaching _all the way to the Hokage_ was the first thing that stood out to her.

"You'll be assessing dry goods, equipment, and any applicable seals," Tsunade bulldozed over Shikako's weak protest. "So don't pick three more shinobi for the panel and end up shafting the merchant's on quality. I'd suggest someone from the Trade Guild in the civilian sector. The longer they've been in the business, the better. If they have liver spots and ear hair, you know you're in the right age range."

"But," Shikako spluttered, mind racing. Review board? What _specifically_ would they be reviewing? Dry goods...equipment...that covered a hell of a lot of ground. Obviously, she was being selected to assess any seals related to this whole business.

Tsunade made an impatient ' _go on_ ' gesture with her hand.

Shikako took a deep breath. One in, one out. Calmly, she launched her protest. "I'm honored that you feel me capable of such an important task, Hokage-sama, but I'm afraid there might be some misunderstandings about my abilities in the Sealing Arts." Tsunade snorted, but Shikako wouldn't be deterred. "Hokage-sama, I've only just recently decided to focus on my Fuinjutsu. At my current level, I'm nowhere near qualified to determine the quality or viability of seals I've never encountered before." There. That sounded reasonable.

"Is this yours?" and then Tsunade grabbed a familiar journal from her top drawer and tossed it down. Shikako recognized it as the very same collection of poorly executed analyses on Sealing that she had shown Jiraiya so long ago.

For a very brief moment, Shikako felt violated.

It was one thing to pretend in concept that her research would be consumed by the public. It was another thing altogether to watch it happen. A small, irrational part of her felt that _even though_ she had planned to someday submit her research to her superiors, _even though_ she could logically recognize that there was nothing glaringly personal in those pages, it was still a struggle not to feel as if her privacy had been breached.

Shikako's mind flickered through emotions, taking the development in stride. "This supports my case, Hokage-sama. A quick read of my research would reveal the true depth of my inexperience. It's only been in the very recent past that any of my research has produced workable results. My battle with Gaara-san was the sum culmination of almost all of my research."

"You're trying to tell me you think there's someone more qualified than you?" Tsunade's tone was impatient.

Shikako paused, choosing her words carefully. "I'm trying to say that I'm very _under-_ qualified."

"Tough. There are exactly, hmm, let me see," Tsunade made of show of searching through the papers on her desk before giving up the charade and nailing Shikako with a severe look. " _Zero_ Fuinjutsu experts left in Konoha. _None._ You're the closest thing we've got."

Shikako made a sound as if to argue further, but Tsunade held up her hand and continued on. "We have many people with more experience than you _in specific areas of sealing,_ but there is no one who can branch outside their field of expertise. Not only do you have a broader range of knowledge than anyone else at the moment, you have _willingly pursued_ understanding many different branches of the sealing arts. That's unheard of. Like it or not, you're well on your way to being Konoha's resident Fuinjutsu expert."

"Two months is a small window of time to put together an effective task force and still review any products in a reliable manner," Shikako switched tactics immediately. "Perhaps a softer deadline - "

"There isn't any time. Winter is almost here. Harvest is ending everywhere and trade caravans always mobilize before the heavy weather sets in," Tsunade was ticking off her fingers as she went. "The Merchant's Guild is demanding trade routes be opened for the upcoming summit. As it stands, our troops have been recalled from the borders and we have a very brief window where security is going to be tighter than it will be for a very long time. In three months time the Jounin exams will conclude and we'll have to face the redeployment of our forces. We're going to have the trade summit now, or we're going to have it _never._ Go ahead and guess which option gets Konoha's vote."

Shikako wilted in place, listening with growing horror. The possibility of becoming a desk ninja looked more and more legitimate. Tsunade gave her a long look and the hard line of her frown softened.

"You will only be expected to sit on this council for two months time, until the summit has concluded or until the quality of the products up for auction has been authenticated, whichever comes first."

That was the promise. Shikako had made one last token effort to protest, on the grounds that she wasn't familiar enough with trade laws and regulations to make firm evaluations of any products put for review. She'd been cut off when Tsunade slammed an obscenely large paperback on Trade Law onto the desk with, let's be honest, a _bit_ more unholy glee than Shikako felt the situation warranted.

After she'd gotten the boot, it'd been the single worst two weeks of Shikako's career, bar none. Okay, excluding hospital visits and the reasons _for_ said visits, it was _the worst._

She'd rounded out the council with a Jounin from the Akimichi clan, a portly, middle-aged woman named Bachiko who had lost an arm in battle several years ago and retired to the civilian sector ever since. She'd given a firm _Thanks, but no thanks_ to the offer of working in a support capacity in the Hokage's tower. She retired one day and opened up her food cart the next. Four years later she was the matron of several highly regarded tea gardens within Konoha's walls and she was in the unique position of lending a seasoned shinobi's perspective as well as a merchant's.

The third was an old man named Ken from the Trade Guild who fit Tsunade's description to a depressing degree. He was stooped with age and smelled musty, could never find his glasses and kept forgetting Shikako's name, opting to call her "Sweetheart" instead. But his brain for goods hadn't faded a whit since his youth and he had a frighteningly sharp eye for picking out less than perfect weapons and armor.

The fourth was a member of the Chunin Guard named Yoshe who had sat on a review board in previous years.

Shikako hated working with Yoshe.

She'd thought the woman would lend a seasoned perspective to the board, but she'd been cured of that fantasy quickly.

Yoshe was the worst kind of stupid – stupid that wasn't self-aware. She thought she was a smart woman and Kami knows how she'd managed to worm her way onto this kind of panel in the past because Shikako couldn't find any redemptive qualities in the observations the woman offered.

Worse, Yoshe made no effort to hide the fact that she considered Shikako inferior in every possible way.

Which led to here.

A dusty, unused conference room in the back of the Hokage Tower's administrative wing. Shikako had done her part to prepare, studying without reprieve. She was pretty sure she could quote Trade Litigation Principles in her sleep and she felt like she'd seen less of her family now than when she'd been preparing for the _exams_.

Her hand paused on the doorknob and she frowned at that thought.

Shikako was avoiding that mess and she knew it would make things worse. It was actually starting to worry her, the rift that was forming between her and Shika.

There wasn't anything that could be done about it at the moment. The panel was convening tomorrow. They'd hold audience with their first wave of merchants and evaluations would finally begin. Shikako acknowledged her fears, then calmly placed them in a mental box and shelved them away. _Later_ , she promised herself.

She was promising that a lot these days.

ooo

 **A/N**

Thank you so much for the overwhelming outpouring of response chapter one received! I never expected this to take off so much. I feel a bit swept away by all your kind words.

To answer a few brief questions, yes, this will have a cohesive plot. It was originally intended to be a series of one-shots.

Yes, the red sash will come up again.

Yes, Shikako is a bit oblivious in the first chapter. I felt it was an accurate reflection of Shikako, who historically has had trouble picking up on nuances about how characters perceive her in the past.

No, she will not be glaringly oblivious to the Gaara/Shikako undertones through the entire story. I'm going somewhere with all of this. Honest.

Assume this whole story takes place immediately following Chapter 95 of DoS and is AU from there.

Oh! I almost forgot to ask – this story has no beta at the moment, and I'm finding I have an alarming margin of error when it comes to grammar and consistency. Any takers out there who'd do the thankless job of editing these for me? Shoot me a PM and thanks in advance.

Thanks for reading!


	3. Running In Place

It was twilight, colloquially known by some as 'The Nara Hour'. Shikako didn't feel like it was her moment, just then. She paused wearily at the bottom of the front steps. Light was shining through the kitchen window and she knew that it meant her mom was still downstairs.

The light in the front room was on as well. Her mom had already cooked dinner, then. If she'd cooked dinner on her own, she'd have someone else doing dishes tonight. Hopefully Shikamaru had already been enlisted. Or was Shika back from his mission yet? Shikako frowned, trying to remember.

Somewhere in the deepening night a dog started howling. It sounded as melancholy as Shikako felt.

She was stalling again.

She climbed the steps and pushed open the door.

"I'm home," Shikako tried to inject enthusiasm into her voice. She couldn't tell if it worked.

"Welcome home!" Yoshino emerged from the kitchen smiling. "You're in late tonight."

Shikako toed her sandals off at the door. She let her bag slide off her shoulder onto the couch, sitting down with a heavy thump next to it. She 'hmm'ed' noncommittally, resting her eyes.

Her mom, angel that she was, picked up on Shikako's mood and didn't pry for conversation.

A few minutes later a familiar chakra signature crept towards the door. Shikako opened her eyes in time to watch Shikamaru close the door behind him.

"I'm home," he drawled.

"Welcome home!" Yoshino called from the kitchen once more, though she didn't come out this time.

Shikamaru walked past Shikako without a single glance, presumably heading upstairs to his room. That was fine. He was probably just tired. Shikako didn't feel like talking anyway.

She closed her eyes and let the sounds of home wash over her. She must have drifted off because when she opened her eyes again the kitchen light was off and the house was quiet.

Shikamaru sat in the armchair facing her, elbows propped on his knees, hands clasped against his mouth. His eyes were hooded, but his gaze was sharp.

Shikako waited.

"She lied," he murmured, apropos of nothing.

Shikako stretched her back, arching like a cat. She refused to ask what he meant.

"The Hokage lied about your assignment."

Now _that_ got her attention. "Which part?" Shikako asked sharply.

"She told you that it would have to be you. That you were the most qualified. The _truth_ is there are other shinobi capable of your job but she didn't want to spare them for it. You aren't there because you're more qualified, you're there because Hokage-sama was being lazy. She saw one of your greatest weaknesses and used it to her advantage," Shikamaru slowly dropped his hands into his lap. His voice was soft, his face serious.

"My pride?" Shikako raised a challenging eyebrow. She could feel that banked anger slowly building again. Kami help him if they were going to have _this_ conversation now, on the eve of her assignment.

Shikamaru scowled, had the audacity to look angry at that. He stood up with a huff and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Your inability to let someone else shoulder the work."

Shikamaru turned and walked away.

Shikako remained on the couch, staring at the armchair for a very long time.

ooo

The Review process was not what Shikako had imagined.

She'd spent a fortnight in preparation, memorizing laws that might be pertinent to the seals she'd be evaluating. She'd blown through light reading on a dozen different cultures in a sort of 'Etiquette Around the World' crash course.

She even reviewed key cases from the past ten years that had set precedent in Konoha's Merchant's guilds.

Tsunade had approved it as an on going C-rank mission, Shikako had read the fine print when she'd received the official mission scroll a few days in. She would receive mission pay for any hours of duty she preformed, up to and including the research she conducted to prepare herself.

The income was reliable, so that wasn't an issue. The mission itself, while horrifyingly close to bureaucratic busywork, actually played an important role in the economic well being of Konoha. Her four man team would be reviewing any and all new wares that hopeful sellers wished to hawk within the walls of Konoha proper.

Merchants didn't mind jumping through those kinds of hoops when it meant selling in a place of Konoha's size. The Land of Fire was blessed with milder seasons and more forgiving geography than any other nation. They had a strong, well established military force with a stable government. They were centrally located. And of all the large nations, Konoha favored justice, common law, and due process more than anyone else.

It was the perfect storm for trading outposts and the powers that be had long ago recognized and encouraged that.

Konoha was an economic hub in a myriad of ways, it would have been a high profile target even if it _hadn't_ been one of the Hidden Villages. That meant that even in peace times Konoha had a policy of heavily regulating trade, and that included evaluating all new products imported from outside the country.

Trade Summits like the one about to take place only happened once every several years, when circumstances allowed. It probably had roots in the tradition of the wandering tinkers and caravans of old, those ancient merchants who would make an endless pilgrimage across the nations, selling wherever the people were buying. What had humble beginnings had grown into a swap meet the likes of which Shikako could hardly believe.

For the past week Konoha had been swelling with visitors. There were new faces on the streets each day, each hour. One could walk down the street and overhear completely different languages, an occurrence rare enough to turn even the most seasoned of heads.

It was similar to the way Konoha had felt before those ill-fated Chunin exams not so long ago. Similar in that the streets were bustling and the nightlife seemed less sleepy village, more thriving city. But it was different in a lot of ways, too.

There was a marked lack of foreign forehead protectors. In their place were swarms of Konoha nin.

And yet, even then, it was a different kind of military presence. The swell in population, while large, brought very few people who mingled with the shinobi world. The vast majority were civilians who had no care for ninja politics and, truth be told, probably would have preferred to go their whole stay without meeting a single shinobi.

Shikako knew the task her panel would preform was a vital part of this economic boon. They functioned like a little ninja Customs Department, a four man team charged with making sure all brand new imported goods were safe and beneficial.

The process for selling wares if you were native to Konoha, or if you were returning to Konoha with something you'd sold in previous years, was much more lax.

Shikako knew it was an important job. She knew this.

Still, Shikako had pictured something a little more than...whatever this was.

She'd arrived at the nondescript room set aside for the panel before the sun had fully risen. She was early by preference, wanting to get the lay of the land before things started. Outside the door the hallway was lined with chairs, already starting to fill with merchants who were queuing up. On the door hung a temporary sign that read "Product Review Board, 3A-3F, _Authority of the Council_ ".

Next to the door stood a senbon chewing shinobi Shikako recognized.

"Good morning, Shiranui-san," Shikako smiled politely as he turned around. "Are those for the Review Board?" She gestured to the files tucked into his side.

"Well, if it isn't the Bomb Jockey!" Genma grinned, senbon bouncing with each word.

"Excuse me?"

"Little miss Boom Boom herself," his tone was clearly teasing, but Shikako frowned at the reference. Genma noticed, of course, and his grin widened. "Didn't you hear? You've been making quite a name for yourself. That show with the exploding tags was hard to forget."

"Oh," Shikako hesitated, not sure how to respond to that.

Genma seemed even more amused. "Congrats on the vest, Greenie." _That_ one she recognized at least, 'Greenie' being a slang term used to refer to fresh Chunin on account of their vibrant, new uniforms.

"Thank you," Shikako demured. "There's no need to exaggerate, though."

"No? You didn't hear the stories of your battle with that Sand kid making the rounds last week? By the fourth time I'd heard it, you'd fashioned a rocket made entirely of air seals and exploding notes, rode it straight into the air, and left a smoking crater behind. That Gaara kid was lucky to escape with his life, way I heard it told, and you were disqualified on the grounds that you'd technically left the designated arena."

Shikako spluttered indignantly. "That was _nothing_ like – I don't even – a _rocket_?!"

Genma tossed his head back and laughed at that, and Shikako was privately impressed that the senbon didn't fall from his lips. Maybe he used chakra to make it stick? Intriguing. It would be a challenging control exercise.

"You need to get out more, kid," Genma scratched his chin, smirking faintly. "Alright, feats of mass destruction aside-," Shikako scoffed at him. "-I'm supposed to give you these. Don't lose 'em, we don't have an extra set." She reached out and grabbed the small ring of keys that he'd fished from his pocket.

"For the room?"

"Yeah, and it'll let you into the civilian archives as well, 'n case you need to pull up anything for reference. Just log it into your report and you can turn them in when the mission is done."

Shikako nodded, unlocking the door next to them and slipping the keys into her pocket.

"Anything else, Jounin-san?" Shikako turned back around to find Genma staring down the hallway. She followed his gaze and noticed the approaching Yoshe, up before the sun and already annoyed about something. Genma winced and shot Shikako a sympathetic look.

"Yeah. _Don't_ blow anything up today," He shunshined away with a small puff of smoke. Shikako's nonplussed look was wasted on the fluttering leaves left behind.

ooo

The very first product up for review was a ladle. That's right, it was a wooden spoon.

Old Man Ken was the last one to arrive and the longest to take his seat. The panel started a few minutes behind schedule and Shikako wanted to claw her brains out, it was so boring.

Half of her was nervous and jittery. They other half of her was filled with an icy rage that she couldn't identify, didn't know where to direct. She felt out of sorts and grumpy.

Despite her efforts to prepare, she was wildly outside her comfort zone. She was a combat specialist, paperwork and politics are the _antithesis_ of her forte.

Her three coworkers passed the ladle back and forth, asking questions which the Merchant answered in nasally tones. Yes, it's made of Balsa wood from the north. No, it's not going to be marketed as a weapon. Yes, it's a newly patented design. What makes it new? Why look here, you can pour from _three_ sides of the ladle – and the merchant demonstrated animatedly.

There were no seals to assess.

Shikako tried to not think about Shikamaru's commentary last night.

 _This is an important job. This is an important job. It'll be over soon._

The merchant was sent out and the panel deliberated. They reached a unanimous vote to approve the ladle, the man was called back in and a stamped affidavit and business license were issued.

And so it went all morning long. Not once did Shikako have anything to offer. It was more than a bit underwhelming.

Things got a bit hairy when they had to turn down their first merchant. His set of fine porcelain dinnerware contained unacceptable amounts of lead due to a recent re-vamping in the way Konoha regulated household toxins.

The merchant was irate, demanded to speak with the Hokage herself. Bachiko told him to take a hike in no uncertain terms, when the man made the grave mistake of implying that Bachiko was a "fat old woman wouldn't know proper tea if it rained on her head". Bachiko calmly pointed to the third story window and the door and told him he had about five seconds to pick his method of exit.

They broke for lunch and Shikako took Bachiko's wisdom to heart, leaping directly from the windowsill into the sunny afternoon. She took to the rooftops and ran, fast and far away from the wretched work behind her.

She wasn't used to this, felt as if she was going to explode with excess energy. She'd sat for long periods of time in the past, sure. She'd done it for days without _measure_ when she sank into researching or reading or writing.

But this was different. Her mind wasn't being occupied and her body was forced into one position and it was like a special kind of torture the universe designed just for her. She had so much to _do_ right now.

It felt like she was sitting on the beach, holding a teaspoon and someone had told her to drink the sea with it. There's _so much_ and she'll never have enough time. What the hell was she doing here?

If the fourth person on the panel were anyone but Yoshe, Shikako would consider bringing in some reading material to hide beneath the table, just so her days weren't wasted.

Frustrated, Shikako reached the far edges of the residential district. The rooftops were flattening out and getting further and further in between her leaps. She felt like her muscles were quivering with the need to do _something_ , and she dropped her resistance seals and flew into a dead sprint.

The world around her blurred into watercolor streaks.

She made a circuit of the whole wall and kept running. Faster and faster, until she started to sweat. Until her lungs burned and the beast inside her chest calmed and she finally felt able to stop.

Her lunch hour was passing quickly, she'd need to head back soon. She flopped down onto the ground, laying back on a patch of grass. She'd stopped on the top of the Hokage Monument and it was quiet up there.

She could feel the thrum of chakra and life down below, where the churning masses of people mingled and mixed. It was like a whole hive of bees, busy little workers darting back of forth, spread out before her. She wondered idly how Shino could stand the feeling of a whole colony rushing around at once, how he didn't go mad with distraction.

Up here the air was cold and quiet, and Shikako knew she was alone. She lay there and stared into the sky, watching a cloud pass in front of the sun. She felt a drip of sweat rolling down her forehead. She let it drip, didn't wipe it away.

Something's wrong. Something's wrong with _her_.

She wished...

The cloud moved away and the sun warmed her face, made her squint. She had a flash of memory - spiked lizards chasing the sun across the sky.

Shikako sighed and rose to her feet. Time to go to work.

ooo

They ran into their first real problem right before the end of their workday.

They were holding audience with a dark skinned man carrying a strangely hooked blade and not one of them could understand a word he was saying. Shikako thought it wasn't a different language altogether, but maybe a dialect or accent that was nearly impossible to decipher. They tried speaking slowly, repeating themselves. It only took a moment or two for everyone to realize it wasn't going to work.

He seemed just as frustrated as them, just as unable to understand. They finally made headway when he produced the entrance visa issued at the Gate which stated he arrived yesterday morning along with a large convoy from the Land of Wind.

"Let's just deny his request and be done with it," Yoshe argued for the third time.

"His wares," Old Man Ken wheezed. "Are a fine quality. We shouldn't dismiss his case just yet, I think."

"You don't even know if they're weapons or farming tools," Bachiko snorted.

"But I _do_ know that they are fine," his eyes twinkled above the glasses perched on his long nose.

"Let's reschedule him. We could petition for someone to act as translator. There's certainly someone who arrived with him yesterday that could help," Shikako offered. _God_ she just wanted to _leave._

Yoshe pouted, looking like she wanted to argue, but in the end she said nothing. Fiinally they agreed to request a translator and reschedule the poor man's appointment.

Shikako wrote the new date and time on a piece of paper and handed it to him. He took it with a nod. She hoped that meant he understood.

ooo

 **A/N**

I'll be updating either every day or every other day for the foreseeable future.

I'm still looking for a beta reader, if there are any takers out there.

Thanks for reading!


	4. Bad Impressions

Roasted quails were turning slowly on a spit behind the glass of the butcher's shop. Above them, sausages and cuts of meat hung in crowded rows on gleaming, metal hooks. Shikako stared at them from her spot on the other side of the street.

There was enough time to make it home for dinner but she felt apathetic toward the idea of sitting down with her mom, who would expect conversation. It would mean an effort to act normal and the thought alone was draining. She considered the merits of just skipping dinner altogether, maybe heading out to one of the training grounds and practicing instead, when a familiar voice hailed her.

"Shikako!" Ino waved at her from down the street. She quickly altered course and ducked into the shaded alcove that Shikako was sheltered in. "I haven't seen you in forever! Have you been on a mission?"

Shikako made a noncommittal noise. The quails kept turning across the street, slowly, slowly. Their skins were bubbling from the heat of the lamps and Shikako could smell them, could hear them sizzle. Her eyes tracked them as they rotated in an endless pattern.

"Well, anyway, _I_ just got back in and I was going to see Sakura. Are you busy?" Ino's voice was happier than Shikako had heard in a long time, happy enough to make her turn and give her friend a once over.

Ino's hair was fixed in a severe bun, tight enough that it pulled the skin of her forehead smooth. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes looked less cold, less haunted. They shone with something impish and Shikako was startled to realize that for the first time in a long time, they looked like _Ino._ The pupils were still black slits, a reptilian slash that changed their shape and divided their pastel hue. But it was less of a focal point, somehow just a feature now. Her eyes weren't glassy or clouded with lurking doubts. They looked bright and Shikako couldn't help but smile.

"You should come! I was just going to see her new place, I haven't had a chance yet. She said it was better than her room at her parent's house, but I bet you anything it's the size of a shoebox. We could both go and catch up along the way?" Ino laid a hand on Shikako's forearm, seemingly trying to sell Shikako on the idea. Though with Ino it could just as easily be a prelude to getting a firm grip and dragging her there by force. It was hard to tell, sometimes.

"Sakura moved?" Shikako hadn't heard about that.

"Yeah, before we even got back from Grass. She didn't tell you?" Ino's voice rose in question, her eyes searching Shikako's face. Who knew what Ino found there, but after a brief moment of searching Ino's mouth turned down in a frown and her back straightened. Shikako recognized it as her 'I've made my decision, so help me God' look. "You should come."

"Alright," Shikako had no will to resist her and fell in step with Ino, letting her lead the way.

Ino seemed perfectly content to carry the bulk of conversation, filling the space with countless observations about life as a Chunin. Shikako made an effort to participate where she could, but she realized uncomfortably that she had little to add. She'd spent most of their first month back on the stupid Review Board assignment.

Shikako was surprised how veiled Ino was when talking about missions, but it stood to reason. Infiltration was, generally speaking, classified work. From what she shared though, it was obvious that Ino found it very fulfilling.

"...And I have no clue why she was slated to train a _Tracking_ unit of all things, because her Genjutsu skills are just _terrifying._ Did you know that she made her first signature technique when she was _fourteen?_ And it was a viable mirage! Four out of five senses. It makes me crazy just thinking about it. Still, it can't have been wasted because even that annoying loudmouth Kiba graduated. Oh," and then Ino dropped off mid sentence. They were standing under the eaves of a building that Shikako was absolutely certain was condemned. "I think this is it."

"I...this? Are you sure?" Shikako looked up at the crumbling facade. It was in one of the oldest districts of Konoha, in between the Hospital and the outer wall. The building was brick, a rarity in Konoha, which favored wood and plaster. The front of it looked like it had received damage and had been poorly patched up at some point.

But there were lights on in several of the windows and when they pressed the button for apartment 4-H, there was a loud _'Zzzzzztt'_ as they were buzzed through.

Inside the door the hallway smelled like urine and the carpet featured a large, suspicious stain. At the end of the hallway there was an elevator with an 'Out of Order' sign hanging on the doors. Ino shared a significant look with Shikako and the two proceeded to climb the stairs.

But for all impressions of being derelict, Sakura's floor looked well maintained and her door was sturdy and clean. Sakura answered on their third knock, revealing a very small, brightly lit apartment beyond her.

"Ino! Shikako!" Sakura looked momentarily surprised at the addition of Shikako, before she broke out into a smile and motioned them both inside. "Want some tea? I was just going to make some. Oh, this is my friend Fukui Keiko. Keiko, this is Yamanaka Ino and Nara Shikako." Sakura gestured to a girl sitting on the couch behind her. She had blindingly white hair piled in a messy bun on top of her head and her golden-brown eyes were lost behind an enormous pair of glasses. She wore the same medic uniform as Sakura, obviously someone from work.

Shikako bowed politely at the introduction.

"Actually, if it's not too much trouble, could we order something to eat? Maybe some take-out? I don't really feel like going out just now," Shikako was finding the hunger cramps harder to ignore and if they were going to be social, food would probably be necessary.

"That's a great idea!" Sakura looked eager, walking back into the kitchen to fiddle with the kettle on her stove. "What should we order?"

"Oh my god, _everything._ I haven't eaten in _years,_ " Ino flopped dramatically onto the couch next to Keiko.

"Still on a diet?" Sakura teased, balancing four steaming mugs as she returned.

"You know, that's not very healthy at our age..." Keiko trailed off awkwardly, missing the nuance.

" _No,_ " Ino shot Sakura a dirty look. "I've been busy, thank you very much. Though now that you mention _diets_ you _do_ seem to have gained a little weight, Sakura- _chan._ "

"All muscle!" Sakura smiled, slamming Ino's cup onto the coffee table in a frightening show of force.

"You have a very nice home," Shikako deflected, hoping to stop the two before they really got going. It wasn't a lie, either. First impressions and scary hallways aside, the interior of Sakura's apartment looked well maintained, if a bit empty.

There were boxes scattered about in various states of disarray, and there was a distinct lack of personal effects. The kitchen, living, and dining area were all one modest room, but the hardwood floors looked new and the walls were freshly painted and cheerfully lit by recessed lights tucked in the ceiling above.

It smelled clean and looked homey, though it was on the small side.

"I know the outside is kinda scary, but the head nurse's husband runs this place and the place next door. Half the medics in Konoha live here anymore because the rent's so cheap and it's so close to the hospital," Sakura lowered herself to sit seiza style at the coffee table, leaving the armchair open for Shikako.

Shikako settled in carefully, content to listen now that any arguing had been diffused.

It turned out that Sakura had been progressing in her studies at a frightening pace under Tsunade's tutelage. She was on a grueling regimen that had her waking up before the sun and reporting for duty at the hospital. She'd work the long shifts, sometimes back to back, then she'd get off late, often after the sun had set, only to be beaten to a pulp in combat training or pushed to her limits in endurance trials. And that wasn't even to mention the volumes of medical texts she had been expected to memorize.

Moving closer to the hospital to shave ten minutes off her commute both ways was less of a mark of her growing independence and more of a survival tactic.

Keiko seemed to be Sakura's study partner, of sorts. She was a pleasant girl, if a little ignorant of shinobi life. She had come into the Medic Corps from the civilian sector and Shikako found very little common ground with her.

When take-out arrived they ate around the coffee table in the living room as Sakura had no dining area to speak of.

"You've been quiet, Shikako. What have you been up to lately? More crazy research, maybe?" Sakura's voice held no accusation, her smile was open and friendly, but it still made Shikako freeze. She risked a glance at Ino, who was paying very close attention, waiting for her answer.

Shikako looked down at her lap, chewing her bite of rice slowly. She swallowed, before calmly telling them, "I've been on an ongoing C-rank. It's a special task force put together for Hokage-sama. It'll only be for a little while longer, but it's been keeping me busy." It was, very carefully, not a lie.

"Oh," said Sakura. Then, "Wait, do you mean that review board thing she was talking about weeks ago?"

"She told you about that?" Shikako asked, surprised. It wasn't exactly sensitive information, but the fact that Tsunade bothered discussing something so petty held it's own kind of significance. If Tsunade was sharing details about daily life with her it implied a growing confidence between the two.

"Well," Sakura hedged. "Less _told_ me about it and more complained to Shizune-senpai about it. At length. While I was just kind of standing there."

Shikako could feel Ino's stare and avoided looking in her direction.

"But I thought, I mean, wasn't that sort of a desk job?" Sakura's voice tapered off, as if she realized halfway through the asking that her question might sound rude.

"Ah, no. Not exactly. There's another Chunin on the panel. And they only pulled me in as a consult on sealing work," Shikako could feel Ino's eyes, like twin lasers boring into the side of her head.

"Oh! Well that makes sense," Sakura said.

Shikako spied Ino from the corner of her eyes. The blonde's face made it clear she disagreed strongly. Hoping to end the current line of questioning, Shikako stood and carried her dishes into the kitchen, face shadowed by the fringe of her bangs.

She hovered over the sink, letting out a relieved breath when Sakura chattered on. "I have tomorrow off for the first time in forever and I don't know what to do with myself. I have less than thirty hours, but I _refuse_ to look at a single scroll. I'm off the clock!" Her voice rose in determination and next to her Keiko snorted.

"You'll have your nose in an anatomy journal the second we leave, I guarantee it."

"No! I'm going to stay up late reading stupid, girly books and tomorrow I'm sleeping in and then I'm going to do my hair and I am _going_ to go _shopping_!" the _'Come hell or high water'_ at the end was implied through the sheer ferocity of Sakura's tone.

"You could finish _unpacking_ ," Ino muttered.

"I should probably get going, I need to be up early," Shikako's tone was light, but her eyes skittered towards the door.

"Me too," Keiko stood with a sigh.

"But you only live two floors down! You don't have to leave yet," Sakura protested, grabbing Keiko's wrist. "You can walk home in like three seconds. It's too early to call it a night!"

Shikako dusted her shirt off and gave the girls a little wave before ducking out the door. She almost made it to the stairwell before Ino caught up to her.

"Ok, what the hell is going on with you," Ino put a hand on her shoulder, halting her progress. Shikako was _not_ retreating. She was just in a hurry to get home. To bed.

She sighed and turned around. "I'm just tired, Ino. This assignment is taking a lot out of me."

"Well that's a steaming pile of shit," Ino crossed her arms. Shikako was a bit shocked by Ino's casual profanity. Had Ino always been that blasé about swearing?

"Ino, I know you're concerned but-"

"Don't try to handle _me_ , Nara. I'm the queen of that maneuver," Ino cut her off. "Seriously, what's the deal? Something's going on with you." Her tone lost it's bite near the end, concern bleeding through.

"I...," Shikako was lost. How could she explain something she didn't understand? She was struck with the crazy urge to drop her seals, run to the nearest window and leap into the night beyond.

Ino waited, undeterred, and the silence wore thin.

"...I need to go home, Ino. It's late," She tried to ignore the brief look of hurt that flashed across Ino's face. But Ino uncrossed her arms, expression stoic once more, and Shikako chose to take her silence as a form of acceptance.

She was down the first few steps, ready to turn the corner and leave Ino's line of sight, when Ino's voice called softly, "He misses you, you know. He doesn't say it but... Whatever's going on with you two? Shikamaru hates it too."

It was an easy thing for Shikako to continue descending and pretend she hadn't heard.

ooo

Her walk to work the next morning was uneventful until she rounded the second to last corner, approaching the final three blocks. There was something there, on the edge of her chakra senses.

It was deep and roiling and radiated out like heat.

Searing heat.

The closer she got, the more puzzled she felt. It was strange, because it felt exactly like...

She turned the last corner and stopped in her tracks, eyes confirming what her senses had suspected.

"Gaara?"

ooo

 **A/N**

I've received a couple generous offers for betas and I'm going to try them out. Hopefully any chapters that follow after will have fewer errors to distract from the story.

Thanks for reading!


	5. Of Skittish Things

Meeting someone outside of their natural setting has a funny way of sweeping the rug out from under your feet. Shikako was currently living that first hand.

Her rapid-fire brain stalled on the image of the lone Sand nin, lurking in the doorway of her office building. It simply did not compute. She watched as the morning crowd parted around him, like water breaking over a rock in the rapids. No one entered his bubble of space or made eye contact. He could have been a statue except for the heat of his chakra, rolling off him in waves.

He had turned towards her at the sound of his name and Shikako slowly closed the distance whilst he stared.

If he was surprised to see her, his face didn't show it. She came to stop in front of him, mouth opening and closing a couple of times, unable to think of anything to say.

"Good morning, Shikako-san," and _yep_ , his deep voice was still jarring.

"Good morning," the reply came out automatically, but it served as a sort of reboot that helped her brain fire up again. "I had no idea you were in town?" She let her voice lift the last word into a question.

"I arrived two days ago, with an envoy from Suna."

"Ah. You're...escorting them, then?" Shikako felt awkward, trying to draw him into conversation. It was too much like talking about the weather or the local sports team, but she was too unbalanced by the sudden encounter to be any more articulate.

"No."

She thought for a moment that Gaara would elaborate, but he just fell silent and stared.

"Will you be...uh, staying a while?" Shikako fought the urge to bang her head against the nearby door, because she was starting to sound like a Victorian debutante. ' _Very good, Mr. Darcy. Will you be letting Netherfield long?'_

"There are conditions to this visit beyond the realm of my control. I'm unsure how long it will last," he frowned then, a tiny flicker of turned down lips. It was a micro-expression, gone in an instant, but it was the first measurable emotion he'd shown in the conversation so far.

Shikako wanted to ask what was wrong but she was hyper-aware of the fact that they were standing on a busy street in front of an office building, early morning crowds bustling around them.

She glanced at the door and wondered how to end this bizarre encounter without offending him.

"Well," she drew out the syllable. "It's good to see you again so soon. I wish I could visit longer, but I'm currently on an assignment."

"I understand," he nodded, but didn't move. "I am here to assist you."

" _What_?" her voice came out sharper than she intended, but she was tipping dangerously close into having another little moment. In any other context she would jump for the chance to have a powerhouse like the Wind Country's _container_ as backup, but this wasn't a field mission and she couldn't understand.

Gaara didn't answer her. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a mission scroll with a Konoha seal. Shikako took it from him and read. It was a D-ranked mission scroll and pinned to the back of it was a copy of the Review Board's request for a translator from the Land of Wind. The date, the location, and all the details right there in her own tidy handwriting.

"Ah. Well, um," Shikako handed the scroll back. This had started awkwardly, but she was determined not to let it be weird. "This seems a bit..."

Gaara tilted his head to the side, waiting.

"...Excessive," she settled on. "Is there a reason _you're_ the one filling this position?" She unlocked the door and stepped inside. Gaara followed silently after her. She hoped he didn't take offense to that, but really it was a _bit_ much. Like requesting a candle and receiving a forest fire instead.

"My visit to the Hidden Leaf is diplomatic in nature. It falls within my current responsibilities," Gaara said from over her shoulder. Which, really, that sounded like _half_ of an answer. Shikako unlocked the office door and flipped on the lights.

When she turned around, Gaara looked like he wanted to say more.

After a moment of hesitation, he leaned forward and confessed, "Temari was the one that reviewed the missions relating to our compatriots, yesterday. When she recognized your name on the form she told me _'This one's for you'._ " He looked down with a frown, face puzzled.

"Huh," Shikako shrugged. "Well, at least we already know each other so...the work should be pleasant? Although I'm afraid you're a bit early. That merchant wasn't scheduled to return until this afternoon. After lunch."

Gaara opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by a shrill voice.

" _He_ can't be here! We're not open for another twenty minutes," Yoshe came stomping through the door with a glint in her eye, thrusting a finger in Gaara's direction.

Shikako suppressed the violent urge to roll her eyes. Clasping her hands in front of her, she politely said "Good morning, Yoshe-san. Our request for a translator has been approved. Please allow me to introduce Sabaku no Gaara, representative of the Hidden Village of Sand."

Shikako waited for a reaction, but when none was forthcoming, she continued in disbelief, " _Gaara._ Of the desert? _Son_ of the _Kazekage?!_ " Because honestly, who in the name of the Sage of Six Paths _didn't_ know of the infamous Wind Country's container?

That finally elicited a response from the older woman, who dropped her finger and winced.

"Well, anyway, it's _still_ too early for him to be here. We won't be needing him until much later in the day."

"Nara-san had just made me aware. I apologize for the inconvenience. I will be available at the scheduled time," Gaara droned, turning to face Shikako at the end.

Shikako blinked at him before she cottoned on. "Oh! One o'clock. He's scheduled for review at one o'clock."

Gaara nodded at them both. "Nara-san. Yoshe-san." Then he walked out the door without a backwards glance.

Around Shikako the other panel members were arriving and taking their seats. She stood there awkwardly, unsure how to proceed, because Gaara's chakra had moved out the door, down the hall, and to the entrance of the building. And it hadn't moved any further.

She waited a few moments for him to move on, but when the minute hand ticked closer to starting time and he was still in the same spot, she peeked cautiously out the door and down the hallway.

The scene was comical, in a sad sort of way.

Gaara stood just inside the building, arms crossed and face blank, right next to the entrance. Every few seconds another merchant would open the door to walk inside and take their place in line. They'd react with various levels of alarm to the looming jinchuriki. Some gripped their chests and gasped, some did a backwards scramble.

Gaara reacted to none of them.

Nervously, they would scamper past him and rush down the hallway. A small clog in foot traffic was forming, where a large group was huddled near the panel's door. In between the skittish crowd and the Sand nin was a long hallway of empty chairs.

Shikako sighed. She slowly exited the office, aware of the audience at her back that was silently watching her approach the red head.

"Gaara-san?"

He looked at her from the corner of his eyes, arms still crossed.

"Is there...anything you might like to do to pass the time? Some sightseeing around the village, perhaps?" the hallway behind her was filled with so much anticipation that it was making the hairs on the back of her neck rise.

"...No."

Call it intuition, but Shikako was struck with a brilliant flash of insight. His arms were still crossed, his face wasn't just blank it was _carefully_ blank. Gaara – jinchuuriki of the Land of Wind, reigning terror of the desert sands, monstrous container of the one-tailed beast – was embarrassed.

Deer can be finicky creatures, Shikako knew. If you didn't socialize deer at a young age, they would never be comfortable around people. Ever. There was a small window of opportunity to introduce humans into their world view before the door slammed shut and they were irrevocably wild.

Gaara reminded her so much in that moment of a creature of the forest, one that hadn't been socialized young enough and could never settle around people after that.

A kernel of pity grew in her heart, though she refused to let it show.

Instead, she smiled and said "Actually, if it's not too much trouble, would you mind sitting in on our panel today? It could be a learning experience for both of us, I think. You've had a lot of training in diplomacy and things like this and I feel really under-prepared. And it would be a good opportunity for you, I think. Trade summits don't happen very often so who knows when you'll get another window into the inner workings of Merchant's Guilds like this?"

And that is how Shikako accidentally started a Merchant folktale, one that would be spread for countless Trade Summits in the years to come, whispered over drinks in darkened corners and around caravan campfires – told to the wide eyed, younger generations. A cautionary tale that _even though_ they were naught but humble merchants, _even though_ they didn't live the danger filled lives of those mysterious shinobi warriors, nothing in life was a guarantee.

A tale of the horrifying, unforgettable morning when every merchant in Konoha hoping to gain the approval to sell their wares entered the room of the Review Board, took one look at the addition to the Review Panel, and collectively shat their pants.

ooo

Shikako watched with slowly growing acceptance as the allotted time for the Wind Merchant came and went. Five, ten, fifteen minutes passed and he never showed.

"He's not coming," Shikako finally admitted out loud.

"What a surprise," Yoshe said sarcastically, giving Gaara a pointed look.

"Pity," mumbled Old Man Ken, shuffling through some papers on the table in front of him.

Gaara was sitting next to Shikako stiffly, eyes drilling a hole through the door as if he could summon the missing merchant through willpower alone.

"Nara-chan," Bachiko turned in her seat and looked kindly at Shakiko. "When did you tell the merchant to return?"

"At one o'clock," Shikako deadpanned. She didn't like the implication behind that question, thank you very much.

"Yes, of course, but what were your words _exactly_ , dear?" Bachiko didn't drop the issue and it made Shikako's brow draw together in thought.

"I, well, _we_ couldn't speak so I wrote it down for him."

"Show me," Bachiko pushed a paper and pen at her. Shikako wrote it down because what harm could it do? When she passed it back, she instantly knew something had gone wrong and that the fault was hers, just by the knowing look that crossed Bachiko's face.

"Nara-chan...did you know that civilians use a twelve hour clock while Shinobi use military time?" she held the paper back out to Shikako who looked down at what she wrote.

 _13:00 on the 10th_

 _Room 3A-3F_

"Oh," Shikako whispered with dawning comprehension.

Yoshe looked over their shoulders and tsked with disgust. "What a waste of time!"

"I've only ever used military time, even at home. I didn't..." Shikako could feel her face heating up and could do nothing to stop it. She looked helplessly at Bachiko, who was reaching out to pat her arm patiently.

"It's no harm done, sweetie, don't look like that. He's probably just a bit confused about the time. Why don't we wait and see if he turns up on the thirteenth at ten o'clock, hmm? I've got a hunch it'll work itself out."

Shikako nodded her head, and resisted sinking down into her seat. Oh, this was going to be so embarrassing. _No way out but through._

Shikako turned sheepishly in her seat until she was facing Gaara, who was looking at her with an inscrutable expression.

"I apologize deeply for wasting your time, Gaara-san. If you would do me a great kindness, could you please inform your sister we'll be in need of a translator on the morning of the thirteenth? I would –"

"Shikako."

She stopped, looked at his face. He looked like he did at the end of their fight, rising on the tides of his sand with his hand reaching out for her.

"I enjoyed today. Thank you for allowing me to share your company," Gaara stood and dropped into a polite bow. Shikako watched him as he walked toward the door before she was overcome with the impulse to say something, to thank him, to recognize his gracious behavior.

To be a friend.

"Gaara," she called.

When he turned around she scoured her brain for something to say.

"Do you...would you like to meet? Again? Before you leave, I mean," _Smoooth, Shikako._

But Gaara didn't laugh at her. His eyes widened in surprise before he slowly nodded. Apparently, that was all there was to say about that because Gaara turned and walked out the door.

Shikako had trouble concentrating on the panel for the rest of the afternoon. She was distracted with thoughts of young deer, still skittish and afraid of human touch, in her mind the unshakable image of a blood red square of fabric, folded carefully in the pocket of her bag at home.

ooo

 **A/N**

A bountiful thanks to my new beta Cathy8taffy, who's wise advice steered me away from the mires of bad grammar and terrible opening lines.

Thanks a million!


	6. Thy Rest

It was nearly midnight when Shikako woke from her nightmare. She didn't come out of it noisily, with an indication of distress. One moment she was asleep – fleeing through a grim landscape strewn with tiny Uchiha bodies, chased by a beast with too many tails, and too many teeth. The next moment she was opening her eyes, fully and completely awake.

Shikako took a deep breath. One in, one out. She sat up and ran a shaky hand through her hair. For a moment she let herself look at her door, considered walking through it, and into the room beyond. It would be easy to slip in her brother's bed like she'd always done.

She wondered if Shika would refuse.

He wouldn't. Of course he wouldn't. He loved her. He would never turn her away and whatever this was that they had going on between them, it could never change that. Doubt is hard to kill, and once upon a time she would never have stopped to ask herself that question.

In the end, that was enough to make up her mind.

She dressed quietly and for the first time in her dutiful, well-behaved life, Shikako snuck out of the house.

Shikako had no illusions that her absence would go unnoticed. There were too many observant people in the village, too many in the clan compound, and too many in her home. It wasn't about staying hidden or passing unseen. Not this time.

This time she simply wanted to flee.

She knew that it would bring attention to herself and that thought rankled. A very small, very teenage part of her sleep deprived brain decided that _that_ could be future Shikako's problem.

Thrumming with the need to move, Shikako cleared the rooftops of the Clan compound and dropped to land on the streets below.

She stuffed her hands in her pockets and let her feet take her on an aimless walk. She wandered up alleys and down streets in no particular pattern. The monotonous motion of one foot after the other soothed over the rough edges of the dreams she'd left behind.

Without intending it, Shikako gravitated deeper and deeper towards the center of activity. Into the lower districts where the night life was flourishing, where the streets were more brightly lit, and festive noises drifted up into the chilly air.

On every street, revelers spilled out of restaurants to invade the night in boisterous, rollicking crowds. She passed an open faced bar where gold and red lanterns swung in the breeze. Inside she could hear off key voices raised in a poorly done rendition of a famous war ballad. Before they could finish the stanza and reach the chorus, their giddy choir broke out into laughter and the tune was lost.

Dishes clattered and glasses clinked, touched together in merry toasts. The smell of spiced meats and fried bits clung like perfume to every doorway, free advertisement for the tasty foods within.

She walked until the buildings started blurring together, one noisy bar or crowded lounge becoming the next. She walked until the people around her ceased to be individuals and morphed into an endless parade of anonymous faces.

The air was cold and still in between the open shops, little islands of silence that would shatter as she passed by the next rowdy night scene. Her view narrowed down to the puffs of breath that came out of her mouth and hung, suspended like little clouds in front of her face, before spreading out into the night beyond.

Deep breath. In, out. Puff, puff, puff.

Left foot, right foot. Step, step, step.

She completely missed the first several times the man called out to her. It took him stepping down from the open doorway of the bar and moving as if to enter her personal space, for her to snap to attention. It triggered some deeply ingrained defensive reflex and Shikako whirled to face the man, muscles tensing.

"I _said_ , are you lost, sweetheart?" he probably thought his smile was charming, but in his inebriated state it looked like a sloppy leer. Shikako wrinkled her nose at the sour smell of booze on his breath.

Civilian. Drunk. Non-threat.

She didn't even bother to take her hands from her pockets. Turning her back on him, she meant to continue on when another voice gave her pause.

"Hey! I know you! You're that one girl," Shikako glanced over her shoulder, but she didn't recognize the second man. He had joined the would be Romeo in the doorway and more heads were poking out at his exclamation, probably curious to see what 'that one girl' looked like.

"Do I know you?"

"Oh man, it _is_ you! I remember you. You did that crazy bomb thing over in Grass. Hey, Hiro! Get over here! It's that bomb girl I was telling you about!" he called over his shoulder.

Shikako rolled her eyes, slouching in on herself. She just wanted to be left alone and the idiot was going to draw a crowd.

She made it a few more steps when another voice called out, "Wait! Miss Bomb Girl!"

Shikako was seriously considering taking to the rooftops, manners be damned. All this attention was making the back of her neck itch. Her legs tensed to jump, but before she could make the leap the last man had hustled over and put a hand out as if to grab at her.

Shikako stepped easily out of his reach and turned to face him with something like resignation.

"What do you want?" she snapped.

His hand dropped to his side, but he smiled widely at her. "I was there too, over in Grass."

"You and everyone else in the elemental nations. Your point?" There was something really freeing about standing on a dark street, surrounded by drunken men, and knowing that she was the scariest thing around.

Once upon a time she might have felt intimidated in this kind of situation. All she felt now was a little thrill in the pit of her stomach, like the adrenaline rush right before a battle, or the moment when your feet leave the ground in a flying leap.

Shikako shivered.

"I didn't mean I was there for the bomb thing. I meant the other thing," the man wiggled his fingers in some kind of gesture that Shikako didn't understand.

"The other thing?"

"The _cards_ ," he grinned at her, leaning closer. "I know a place. Wanna make some cash?"

It took a moment for Shikako to connect the dots that he was talking about her little performance during the poker tournament, but when she did, she paused to give him a closer look.

He had short brown hair and several days worth of scruff but his yukata looked fairly new. He was clean and well groomed, apart from the beard, but the cultured image was spoiled when his grin revealed one of his two front teeth was missing.

He took her perusal as invitation and held his hand out to her. "Mato Izanagi. I'm telling the truth, we could make bank at this place. Buy in's only a dime and blinds double after the first hour. I saw the way you worked those cards and I'm telling you, no one would see it coming. Being a little girl like yourself and all."

"It doesn't sound very lucrative if the buy in is only a dime," Shikako scoffed. Izanagi dropped his hand after it was clear she wasn't going to shake it.

"What? Oh no, no, no," he flapped his hand dismissively. "A _dime_. As in ten _hundred._ As in, buy in's a thousand bucks, kid. Whaddya say?"

"I'd say any game of cards that solicits kunoichi for players is probably going to end in blood." Shikako didn't know how she had been sucked into this conversation, but she intended to leave it when Izanagi said something that stopped her in her tracks.

"Ninja can't do anything special at this place."

Shikako turned to face him, mind fully engaged for the first time since she'd leapt from her bedroom window earlier that night.

"How," she said slowly. "Does this place accomplish something like that _?_ "

"Come with me and you can see for yourself. I sponsor you, no questions asked. We split the winnings sixty-forty, me getting the bigger half seeing as it's my money. Come on, we can make it in time for sign ups if we leave now. Next game won't be until this weekend," Izanagi turned to walk away, his body language urging her to follow him down the street.

Shikako hesitated.

A door opened suddenly on the wall to her left and several girls came tumbling out, flooding the street with light and sound. They crashed into one another, giggling and shushing each other before giggling even harder. They stumbled drunkenly down the road and the door closed behind them, leaving Shikako and Izanagi in the cold night once more. The spell was broken.

What on earth was she even doing considering his offer? Who cared about some place's alleged ability to nullify shinobi talents? Interesting as it was in concept, it would be impossible in execution. She had proven that in her fight against Muku. Anyway, a place like that would exist for all of five seconds before Anbu would shut it down and eliminate all avenues of research.

The man was probably some kind of swindler, trying to hustle her.

Izanagi looked like he could tell he was losing her and opened his mouth to launch another attempt when Shikako cut him off.

"No thanks, I have plans this weekend," which was a lie, but Shikako suddenly remembered how much she wanted to be left alone.

"But-"

"No," her tone was firm and Izanagi knew he was being dismissed.

There was a flash of anger, then he closed his eyes and shrugged with a rueful grin. "Fine, alright, didn't mean to offend you. If you ever want to join a game, it's at a place called The Flying Frog. You let the guy at the door know that Izanagi has a standing offer to cover your buy in and they'll let you in."

Shikako watched as he walked away, shoulders relaxing when he turned a corner and disappeared from view. She turned around and almost ran straight into a vest.

"It's a bit past your bedtime, ne?"

Shikako had spent her life preparing for battle. She was faster than almost any of her peers, smarter than most of them too, and at the humble rank of genin she had faced down more A-rank opponents than most shinobi face in their entire career.

For all that preparation, Shikako had flaws. She relied on her chakra sensor abilities almost subconsciously, trusted them to keep her aware. It didn't happen often, but sometimes shinobi skilled in stealth could completely bypass it. When they did, unless Shikako was already in the proper mindset, things could get very embarrassing, very fast.

Shikako shrieked like a little girl, hand lashing out to shove the vest away, to gain some distance before reflexes kicked in, and her shadow whipped out to seize the man.

She could feel her jutsu connect, then felt as he shrugged it off with no apparent effort.

Kakashi caught her palm-strike and Shikako froze in horror.

His single eye looked _so_ unimpressed.

There followed a very awful moment where Shikako couldn't move, locked in place as humiliation flooded her body, before he softly released her wrist.

"...Sensei."

"Shikako-chan."

They stared each other down.

Kakashi lifted his chin, visible eye disappearing from view as he stared straight up into the night sky. "Is there any particular reason you could think of for one of my adorable students to be wandering the lower districts at three in the morning on a Tuesday?" he asked mildly.

Shikako's heart was still racing in her chest.

"Hypothetically speaking, of course," Kakashi added.

"I-" Shikako did not look at the bar Izanagi came out of and calmly reminded herself that Kakashi-sensei was _not_ a Yamanaka. "I got lost. On the road of life."

Kakashi's head lowered in slow motion. It finally stopped and he pinned her with a look.

The silence lengthened.

Eventually, he nodded.

"Sounds troublesome," he said seriously.

He stuffed his hands into his pockets and started drifting away when Shikako was seized with the need to stop him.

When was the last time she'd seen him, anyway? It felt like forever. Feeling a good deal calmer, Shikako jogged to catch up and fell in step beside him.

"Actually Sensei, it's really good to see you. It's been awhile, hasn't it? Are you and Sasuke still training? Maybe we could all meet up and train together? Or, you know, if he's busy, maybe you could help just _me_ with my training?" Shikako had to walk at a brisk pace to keep up with his long strides.

"When?"

"This Saturday?" Shikako offered immediately.

Kakashi stopped and Shikako stopped a beat later, turning to face him hopefully.

His eye was focused on her with a grave intensity and Shikako bore it patiently. The silence wore thin until Shikako fought the urge to frown, to reach out and shake him, to force him to stop staring. He finally broke it off and looked to the side, good eye facing away from her until all she could see was his mask and hitai-ate in dark profile.

"I'm busy this weekend."

It felt like more than one of his flimsy excuses. It felt like rejection.

Before she could bury her hurt deep enough to be calm, to ask him _Why?_ , Kakashi said "Aren't you busy this weekend as well?"

Shikako's heart did a little pitter-patter as she remembered Izanagi's invitation. Kakashi's tone was light, it offered no hints about whether he had heard and was referencing it or if the words were mere coincidence. Before she had time to formulate a safe response he was talking again.

"Well, I really must be going. I just remembered that I left the bathtub running and I should probably run home and turn it off before my house floods. Enjoy the road of life, Shikako-chan."

He disappeared in a tiny cloud of smoke and leaves. Shikako stared numbly at the space he left behind before she was forced to move to dodge a particularly rowdy crowd.

Kakashi was gone, just as quickly and silently as he'd come.

Shikako's hands slowly clenched into fists before she forced them to relax, stuffed them back into her pockets. With no other choice, she continued walking.

Deep breath. In, out. She watched her breath as it hung in the air before slowly melting away.

It was a long and cold walk home.

ooo

Shikako sat in her chair, silently hiding her growing panic. On each side of her sat the other panel members, unknowingly enjoying a front row seat to her private little meltdown.

In front of her on the table lay a small, brass key with two seals on it.

The first of the seals she recognized, much to her surprise. It was a very basic tethering seal. The general idea behind it was that once it was activated, whatever item was tethered to the seal would be immovable until the seal was broken or until it was deactivated, like a chakra anchor.

The second seal was one she didn't recognize.

She didn't recognize its shape, its characters, or any of its patterns or lines.

She had exactly zero ideas what it did.

She had been staring at it for nearly four minutes now and she could feel Yoshe's irritation growing by the second.

"One more time, Sir. Can you describe the individual functions of the seals on the key?" Shikako kept staring at the key, hoping to stall for time.

"Again? But I-"

"Do you, or do you _not_ want to sell your wares in Konoha?" Bachiko cut him off, a tiny show of support that made Shikako swell with gratitude.

Shikako looked up through the fringe of her hair, gauging the merchant's mood. His face was turning an interesting shade of red and his mouth was opening and closing like a fish. He had the look of a man at the end of his patience.

She had tried everything she could, short of sending a pulse of chakra through the seal in an effort to activate it. Trial by seal activation was too foolish to even consider, right up there with testing a new food for toxicity by eating heaping handfuls of it. Sure it might work out for you, but it held the potential to backfire in a spectacular way.

 _This_ was exactly what she had been trying to warn Tsunade about. Seals took a long time to extrapolate and study. The ability to encounter a brand new seal and immediately discern it's use took more knowledge of the arts than she currently possessed. Worse, the seal in front of her had no context, no clues. There were no notes in a journal to read and compare with, no helpful paragraphs at the bottom of a scroll listing it's most common uses.

It was on a brass key.

That was the extent of her knowledge about it and that wasn't enough to go on.

Was it a trap seal? Was it a support seal to improve the quality of the product? It could be so many things.

Shikako could feel a headache threatening to form.

"The seal on the top is called Fixation: Roots of the Oak," the man said through gritted teeth. "When you turn the key in a lock, the key cannot be removed except by the one who turned it in the first place."

Shikako nodded. She had figured out that much.

"The seal on the bottom is called Endurance: Words of Truth. It's a simple barrier seal that allows you to tie an activation word to the key for it to be used. Together they ensure that unless the word is spoken and the chakra signatures match the owner, the key can not be turned."

 _A password protected lock._ Shikako could appreciate the genius of the concept, the problem was she couldn't prove it.

Shikako placed her fingertips together in the thinking seal, attempting to shut out the feeling of several pairs of eyes watching her every move. The room was charged with irritation and Shikako closed her eyes, trying to concentrate.

" _Ugh,_ can we _please_ call someone in here who knows what they're doing?" Yoshe exhaled explosively, fingers tapping the table in a quick staccato.

"I agree! I've been _very_ patient and I think it's _about time_ that-"

"Enough!" Bachiko cut the merchant off with a sharp retort, pointing her finger at him. "You? _Out._ You'll get your answer when we're damn well ready to give it to you."

The man looked like his head was about to burst with righteous indignation, but he slowly stood. With trembling fingers and blazing eyes, he straightened the front of his smock and stiffly walked out the door. Bachiko turned on Yoshe quicker than thought, leaning into her personal space with a glare.

"You _will_ remain professional in front of clients or I _will_ have you barred from this panel," Bachiko said severely. Yoshe made an offended little noise, but offered no reply.

"I don't know if he's telling the truth," Shikako admitted quietly.

" _Obviously,_ " came Yoshe's exasperated reply. "You're not here as a lie detector, you're here to assess the seals. So? Get assessing." She waved an imperious hand at the key and sat back with a sigh.

"I..." Shikako could feel the panic threatening to rise to the surface and spill over. For the first time since she had returned from Grass with a promotion, she felt the full weight of her duty.

It was, oddly enough, worse than the weight of the future she always carried on her shoulders. Often times the future was a distant and changeable thing to her. To some degree, it was even a thing she could influence. A thing she could control.

There was no control over her duties to the village. It was an old fear come to life, a fear she'd had countless years ago when she weighed the path of a kunoichi against the path of a civilian. _Ninja are slaves to duty._

She had never fully appreciated the weight of that duty in the field, where kunai flew and jutsu fires blazed. She wasn't in battle, where she could adapt, attack, and triumph. She was in a stuffy office, faced with paperwork, and the judgments of her betters. There was no Kakashi-sensei safety net waiting to pick up the slack when she couldn't perform.

She was just Shikako, sitting in a barely used office room, wholly and completely failing.

Something of her distress must have leaked through because Old Man Ken leaned forward and kindly said, "Sweetheart, why exactly do you think we have this Review Panel every Trade Summit?"

Shoving her anxiety aside, she focused in on his question. The answer was obvious, but it was equally obvious that he was leading somewhere with it. "To ensure that nothing harmful is sold within the walls of Konoha. To maintain the trust that citizens and merchants alike place in the integrity of our city."

Old Man Ken nodded along. "To what end are you serving that purpose right now?"

She _wasn't_ , that was the problem.

Old Man Ken switched tactics. "What do you think failing that mission would look like?"

"Allowing something harmful to pass through our review process and circulate into the public," Shikako answered slowly.

The unspoken words hung in the air. Shikako dropped her hands from the thinking seal and sat up straighter in her chair.

Right. Okay. She knew what to do.

They signaled the merchant who shuffled primly back through the door, shooting dirty looks in Shikako's direction. When he was seated with an air of injured dignity, Shikako gave him the verdict.

"It is the opinion of this Review Board that one of the seals on this key cannot be authenticated. As such, your request for a business license to sell within the Hidden Village of Leaves has been denied. You can appeal this decision through two means: You can fill out a request form and file it with the local chapter of the Merchant's Guild. Or-" the merchant was on his feet, spluttering with rage. Shikako calmly held up a hand and waited until he quieted to continue. " _Or_ you could remove the Endurace: Words of Truth seal and market your product without it, with the full approval of the Review Board."

"YOU CAN'T!" the man roared, spittle flying from his mouth.

"Sit your ass down!" Bachiko looked about one second away from rising out of her seat and settling things herself.

Shikako could feel a burst of killing intent from the man, who looked at her with pure hatred in his eyes. Angry as he was, it took a great effort not to laugh at him. The amount of killing intent a civilian could produce couldn't hold a candle to the amount produced by shinobi. It was probably significant for the man himself, but Shikako had endured more from Sasuke during their sparring matches. She obviously didn't do a good enough job hiding her thoughts, because the man took one look at her face and he launched toward the table.

Shikako didn't have time to intercept before Bachiko had him in a firm grip around the neck.

"That key took _years_ to research! Of COURSE it's safe you stupid child! You can't just turn me away! This is my _LIFE'S WORK_ you heartless bitch-"

 _Smack!_

Yoshe's slap brought the tirade to a halt. Even Old Man Ken leaned forward to give Yoshe a look of disbelief.

"What?" she said defensively. "If I didn't do it, Shikako would."

"Who's Shikako?" mumbled Old Man Ken.

Shikako let out a long sigh as Bachiko hefted the merchant out the door and into the waiting arms of two Anbu agents who had arrived at the first sign of violence.

"Well!" Bachiko turned on the group with a grin. " _That_ was exciting."

Shikako slumped forward and let her head drop against the table.

She was _definitely_ getting a headache.

ooo

 **A/N**

Because I think it will probably be something that a lot of you take issue with, I'd like to take a brief moment to go over a few things.

First point is, please don't panic! Yes, there is some out of character conflict going on, but I promise to address it throughout the story. I have no plans of leaving you people with literary blue balls.

Secondly, I know there is a vocal majority that wants Gaara to be in every chapter. It's with deepest regret that I inform you that won't be happening. _However,_ plans to make this ship set sail haven't changed. We'll just be taking the long way there.

Thank you eternally to my beta Cathy8taffy, guardian of my grammar, ink of my pen. Without her careful guidance this story would certainly suck.

Cheers!


	7. A Single Thread Plucked

Shikako woke up drenched in sweat, heart beating wildly in her chest.

She lay frozen, unable to move, and waited until her heart calmed. The ceiling loomed above her, dark and shadowy figures danced in abstract patterns, cast by the moonlight where it shined through her window. She watched the play of light and shadow as the seconds ticked by and counted her breaths until her hands stopped shaking and the sweat had dried against her skin. When she felt calm enough, she sat up slowly and set her feet against the cold floor. She curled her toes against the chill, appreciating the way it woke her up further.

She had no intention of going back to sleep.

Shikako moved around her room silently, not bothering to turn on the light. She considered for a moment working at her desk but she felt too restless, the need to flee the nightmares driving her away from the room. The engawa sounded better, with it's seclusion and it's peaceful view. The crisp night air would wake her even further, which was certainly a point in it's favor.

Notebook and pen in hand, Shikako silently shut her bedroom door and made her way downstairs. She was barely out the back door when a familiar chakra began stirring upstairs.

It was probably just a coincidence.

She found a seat near the edge of the house facing the tall trees that sheltered the kitchen. Letting her legs dangle freely off the edge, Shikako opened her notebook in her lap and uncapped the pen. Behind her the presence crept closer.

The night was silent and the shadows were long in the light of the full moon and Shikako didn't look up as Shikamaru took his seat next to her.

It was hard ignoring him at first.

Her shoulders were braced in anticipation of another argument, waiting for him to break the peace she'd found on her little patch of shadowed porch. She waited for the fight to come, for that angry beast inside her chest to rise once more. It set her teeth on edge and made her grip the pen a bit too tight.

Several minutes passed and he said nothing, content to sit next to her and stare off into the forest.

Slowly her awareness of him relaxed and she sank deeper and deeper into the work.

For a long time the only sound that filled the night was the _scritch, scritch, scritch_ of her pen on the notebook paper. After a while Shikamaru leaned back, resting his head on his crossed arms, breath evening out as he closed his eyes.

They stayed that way for hours, until Shikako's hand began to cramp and she stopped for a break. She stretched her stiff neck to ease the tension built up from too many hours in one position. The sun would be up soon and Shikako could feel a burning heat behind her eyes and a dull ache in her head that told her she'd gone too long on too little sleep.

When she rose to her feet, Shikamaru cracked a single lazy eye. It glinted, cat-like in the darkness as he watched her.

 _Okay, so maybe he wasn't asleep after all._

Shikako stretched her arms over her head, then tried to shake the tingling feeling from her numb hands. It was nice to be with Shika like this, silent and steady. Not stressed and not fighting. She hadn't remembered how calming it was, just being with him.

She grabbed her things and headed back in the house.

It wasn't until she was halfway up the stairs that she heard Shikamaru shuffling behind her and a niggling suspicion started to form.

One foot after the other, she plodded up the steps, suddenly focused on the motion of her brother following behind.

She didn't need the light to feel his chakra, soft, stirring, and nipping at her heels. Shikako made it all the way to her door and paused with her back to the hallway.

Shikamaru walked past her to his own room and disappeared within. She stared over her shoulder at his closed door and deep in the pit of her stomach, her suspicion gained strength.

ooo

Shikako was going crazy.

She saw a silver haired man on her way to the Review Panel, and she almost called out to him. Then he turned around and it wasn't Kakashi-sensei, it was some woman she'd never seen before and how had she possibly thought that was Kakashi-sensei?

Then again, in the line for the Steamed Buns food cart, where Shikako had stopped to buy some breakfast. She was sure she felt that familiar sizzle of chakra, that electric buzz that vibrated against her senses whenever her teacher was near. When she looked up at the edge of the roof above, fully anticipating her sensei, it was just Special Jounin Mitarashi (who blew an immature raspberry at her when she noticed Shikako's stare).

She saw him a third time when one of the merchants entered the review room that morning. It was just a flash of hair in the hallway and the brief impression of a bright orange book, but for a moment Shikako had the crazy, irrational thought that Kakashi-sensei was about to enter the room and present wares for approval.

The merchant ducked in and his hair was purple and it hung limply to his shoulders, the opposite of her sensei.

Her head was pounding for the second day in a row, a symptom of her sleep deprivation she could no longer banish with a simple flush of her chakra. It added to her mood, piling on top of the paranoia until even the act of sitting upright and keeping her face blank became a draining task. She passed almost the entire day without having to say a single word.

She was surrounded by people at every turn.

She had never felt so invisible.

When the evening came and Shikako was locking up for the night and she felt him, saw him _again_ as a flash of silver in the corner of her eyes, she didn't even turn to check.

It wasn't him.

It _never_ was.

ooo

"Special assignment? For how long?" Shikako tried to hide her disbelief from the two gate guards. She didn't want her doubting tone to come off as an insult – the last thing on earth she needed was the two front men of the Konoha Patrol angry with her as well. If the past month had taught her anything, it was a healthy respect for the paper pushers of the world. They might not look like much, but she now knew those unsung heroes of the clerical world had the special ability to _fuck_ with those who crossed them.

"I'm sorry, but it's classified," Izumo said, and he really _did_ sound sorry too, the bastard.

Shikako had to suppress a knee-jerk reaction to call ' _bullshit'_ on him. What kind of 'special assignment' could Sasuke possibly be on, for Kami's sake? He was limited to working on _certain_ teams in a certain _capacity_. Furthermore, the fact that Izumo knew enough about the situation to _tell_ her he was on special assignment implied that the 'special assignment' pertained to patrol duties.

Which was absurd, the more one thought about it.

Sasuke wouldn't be put on any high profile cases, especially not ones that took place within the walls of Konoha. As far as she was aware, Sasuke was still under tight reigns because of the cursed seal. If something had changed with the cursed seal, Shikako would be one of the first people to know...wouldn't she?

"Can you pass a message to him for me?" Shikako tried not to sound desperate.

Izumo shook his head and next to him Kotetsu gave her a pitying look.

Shikako turned and walked away, not even bothering with a goodbye.

ooo

She found herself sitting on a park bench underneath a Hashirama tree, near enough to the Hokage tower that she had a good sight-line on the main entrance. It was twilight again. The Nara Hour.

Shops everywhere up and down the street were closing their doors and bringing in the wares, shutting down after another busy day. Overhead a few early streetlamps were flickering on, little sentinels foreshadowing the oncoming darkness. The mood was shifting as the people passing by her bench changed over from the 'stay at home crowd' to the 'just getting off work' lot. More and more young faces appeared, all heading down towards the bustling village center.

The nightlife was gearing up for another evening of revelry.

Shikako ignored them all, keeping vigil from her bench.

All but one of them ignored her.

"Yo, Sparky! So what is this, your hang out spot or something?"

Shikako looked up at Kankuro's grinning face. He was wearing his face paint again and Shikako's eyes followed the lines down from his smile, across his chin to where the paint disappeared under the collar of his shirt. She had a fleeting moment of curiosity where she wondered if he bothered to paint other parts of his body as well.

His words sank in and she finally looked up at the tree, down at the bench, and all around her. With a start, she realized it was the very same tree that she was under when they ran in to each other for the very first time, a lifetime ago.

Shikako felt too tired for banter and simply shook her head.

Kankuro's gaze lifted to follow her line of sight and he frowned when he saw the Hokage Tower.

With a grunt he dropped down on the bench next to her.

"You waiting here for somebody?"

"No," she said quietly. "I suppose not."

He gave her a funny look then, like he wanted to call her out on her weirdness but lacked the nerve.

"So," he drawled out. "You just like this spot?"

"No," she wasn't looking at him anymore.

Shikako had thought her taciturn mood would have driven him off by now, unfamiliar as the two of them were. Perhaps it was a by product of living with the world's most stoic person, but Kankuro shrugged off her terse replies and carried on. It reminded her suddenly of the way that Ino could pick up on a person's discomfort and carry a whole conversation by herself, just to put them at ease. Shikako's heart clenched and she shoved the thought away.

"You got any plans tonight?" Kankuro was scratching his chin absently.

Shikako shook her head. She kept watching the door.

"Gaara said you invited him out, or something like that. Why don't we do it tonight? I was about to meet up with him and Temari for dinner. We could all go together and you could show us the local food scene. Fair warning though, Temari's a picky eater. It sure as hell beats sitting on a bench all night," his voice was light, telegraphing the casualness of his invitation. She had the feeling if she told him no he would shrug and walk away, no offense taken.

It suddenly struck her that this was probably the longest anyone had talked to her all day.

"Alright," she rose from the bench and Kankuro followed. He pulled in front and she let him lead the way.

They walked toward one of the upper wards, closer to the interior of the village. Shops were fewer and further in between as the buildings shifted from commercial to residential. The building facades changed as well, spreading out and growing taller. Statelier. The architecture was older here and they passed larger lawns with iron gates and important looking entrances.

It was the old-money part of town where many of the biggest civilian clans lived.

Shinobi clans were an ancient bunch, bloated with customs and weighed down with complicated histories. They got so caught up in the drama of running the shinobi world that sometimes they forgot that they weren't the only clans to answer Hashirama's call back when Konoha was born.

The civilian clans were just as old and just as ruthless.

They may not have produced generations of vicious killing machines, but Shikako had thought more than once that more ninja should consider who it was that _hired_ all those vicious killing machines for centuries on end. In her opinion, the lack of shinobi skills made the old civilian clans no less dangerous. In some ways, their cunning had to be hidden even deeper than their shinobi counterparts.

Shikako broke from her musings as they approached The Boar's Garden, Konoha's biggest and oldest hotel. The sun was setting now, and the hotel stood out against the darkening landscape like a lighthouse, gleaming white and bustling with life.

It wasn't hard to pick Gaara and Temari out from the sea of smaller chakra signatures. Honestly, it would be kind of hard to miss Gaara anywhere.

They were waiting outside in the company of an older Sand nin that Shikako didn't recognize. At Shikako and Kankuro's approach, the Sand nin departed and the four were left in a huddle at the bottom of the grand hotel's steps.

"Good evening," Gaara bowed his head politely in her direction, taking her presence in stride.

"Kankuro roped you into tour guide duty, didn't he?" said Temari knowingly. "When he gets like that, you just need to knock him on the head. He'll back off after the first time or two."

"Good evening Gaara-san, Temari-san. Really, I don't mind. A night out sounds nice, as long as I'm not intruding," Shikako mustered up a smile.

"Suit yourself," Temari shrugged.

Kankuro pouted at his sister, but didn't say anything.

"Is there anything you're interested in trying?" Shikako had made the rounds of Konoha's varied restaurants many times before. You don't grow up life long friends of the Akimichi clan and _not_ know where the best food in Konoha is found, after all. She had several options in mind but decided it was safest to defer to the group's preferences.

"Nothing fried," Temari made a face of disgust. "Other than that, you can take us wherever."

With those vague parameters, Shikako lead them all away from the hotel.

The conversation flowed easily, carried along by Kankuro's easy-going attitude and Temari's very vocal dislike of politics and the fact that she's daily locked in rooms with people who should have had the decency to die and leave their government positions to younger blood _years_ ago.

Shikako couldn't find fault with her for the unflattering sentiment. She was privately of the mind that Konoha could do with a good political purging, _especially_ after having spent a week slogging through the dark, red-taped underbelly of the trade world.

Shikako shuddered.

Gaara walked slightly behind them all, a silent presence. He didn't enter conversation unless prompted and his responses were typically monosyllabic, but he didn't strike Shikako as rude. More than anything she had the firm feeling, once more, that he was uncomfortable. The way that crowds parted all around them and people stared, she couldn't really blame him. The attention was making _her_ squirm and she wasn't even it's target.

She stopped in the middle of the street, finally at their destination.

Beside her and behind her the Sand siblings stopped as well, staring at their destination.

"Well, it's not fried, I suppose," said Kankuro, shooting a cheeky grin in his sister's direction.

Temari looked like she was about to protest anyway when Shikako quietly cut her off.

"It was Naruto's favorite. I thought...I guess I thought you might like to try it," she didn't look at Gaara – didn't in any way indicate that she was talking only to _him –_ but in the silence that followed her statement, Gaara slowly walked past the other three and took a seat at Ichiraku's.

Any protest that Temari might have put forth wilted in the face of Gaara's endorsement and she threw a look in Shikako's direction that said _That was a dirty move, you little brat._

The other three took their seats and Shikako chanced a glance at Gaara. He was stiff in his seat, his deep voice overly soft and formal as he ordered. The longer they lingered the more he relaxed. Teuchi-san had years of practice serving the village pariah and the man came through as Shikako suspected he would - totally unflappable in the face of Gaara's intimidating mein.

His daughter Ayame served them with a smile, and it didn't escape Temari or Kankuro's notice either, the way that Gaara looked less and less like a statue and more and more like a human being under the casual service of the Ichiraku team.

Shikako tucked in to her own bowl of ramen when it came and tried to ignore when her brain looked for blonde hair instead of red. She wondered if there was such a thing as 'phantom limb' syndrome of the heart. If maybe souls couldn't long for a missing piece as well.

It was a quiet meal, but not a bad one.

ooo

By the time Shikako arrived at home, it was nearly bed time. Earlier in the evening than she thought it would be, but still later than usual for her.

She had hoped to find everyone already in bed but the house was cheerfully lit and she could feel her family, all downstairs. With a deep breath she climbed the stairs and opened the front door.

"I'm home."

"Welcome home!" her Mom was seated on the couch and she lifted her head to smile at Shikako. "I just put dinner away but I could heat some up for you?" She didn't wait for Shikako's reply, already rising to her feet.

"Ah, no, but thank you Mom. I actually already ate," Shikako could feel her Dad and Shikamaru just off to the side in the other room. They were probably playing Shogi.

It was suddenly important that they didn't see her, that they didn't know where she'd been and who she'd been with. She didn't feel like she had the energy left for the minefield of questions it would provoke.

"Actually, I'm really tired. It's been a long day, so...," she trailed off, already headed in the direction of the staircase.

"Oh," her Mom's smile dimmed just a bit before she looked sympathetic. "Of course. Have a good night, love."

"G'night," Shikako leaned forward and gave her Mom a quick hug. She called another good night over her shoulder but didn't wait for the response before she was climbing the stairs.

Her room was dark and cold from the window she'd left cracked open. She fell on the bed fully dressed, bag slipping from her fingers to land on the ground beside her.

She stared at the ceiling and in the quiet of her room, she formed a plan.

ooo

Shikamaru stirred out of a light sleep.

Across the house he could hear it, could feel it. Kako was sneaking out again.

He rose silently, already fully dressed. He'd slept in his clothes to save time during his pursuit.

He wasn't the chakra sensor that Shikako was, he never had been. But he could always feel her, like a lodestone for his soul, the way a compass will always find it's north.

It was unforgivably stupid of her to think that she could sneak out without him noticing.

She didn't leave through the window this time, choosing the riskier path down the stairs and out the front door.

Shikamaru waited a beat and silently slipped out behind her.

It was at the bottom of the stairs that he felt the snare of it, like the softest brush of spider silk across his face. It wasn't a very strong illusion but it was unexpected and subtle enough to snare him for several seconds. Several seconds is a long time, for shinobi.

When he flared his chakra and dispelled the trap, he was standing in the back gardens away from the house. Under the shadow of a tree, Shikako stood facing him.

He had never before seen the look she wore on her face. She looked hurt, but it was buried beneath a haunted veneer. She looked more than a bit wild, with dark circles under her eyes betraying her lack of sleep.

He couldn't stop his eyes from making a quick sweep of her person, couldn't prevent the deluge of information his brain picked out. The way her collar was turned in, the way her hair was unkempt, the stain on her left glove that betrayed her visit to Ichiraku's, the way her body was turned in on itself, like a cornered beast.

The ice cold look in her eyes.

The way her voice shook.

"So you _are_ following me?"

He'd never heard Kako's voice sound so dark, so venomous. He felt totally unsettled and it made his anger flare.

"Where did you sneak off to the other night?" he grumbled defensively. Shikamaru winced. That was a clumsy redirection, but none of this felt right and it was making him anxious.

"What's wrong? Don't _trust_ me anymore?" the anger was building in her voice and she wasn't being very quiet anymore.

"That's not-"

"Let's be clear on one thing, Shikamaru," she cut him off and her hands were shaking, fisted at her sides. "You are not my keeper. I am an adult in the eyes of the law. You may be older than me, but _I_ am _stronger_."

Shikamaru can't believe how angry that makes him. He's never felt so furious his entire life. Shikako was standing there, falling apart at the seams, at her most vulnerable place, in the depths of her greatest need, and she brought them _here._ Turning all that ire on _him_ and she still just. Did. Not. _Get. It._

" _I'd rather you were smarter!"_ he spat before he could stop himself.

Shikako reeled back from that like a physical blow, eyes widening. Her hands unclenched to hang limply at her sides.

"That's enough," Dad's soft rebuke came from the doorway behind them.

Shikako's face was shadowed, her eyes hidden from view. Slowly, as if floating, Shikako walked towards him. Shikamaru braced himself, ready for her to escalate this. For the pressure that's been building ever since Gelel to release in one huge, messy burst.

He tensed as she reached him, but she just continued past him. He stood frozen in place, listening to her footsteps as she walked back into the house.

His feet were rooted to the ground and he stared at the empty space under the tree that Shikako had left behind.

"That," said Dad mildly, "was poorly done."

It's the harshest thing he can remember his father saying to him. Ever.

Shikamaru waited, almost expecting something else to happen. For the sky to fall, perhaps. Maybe another invasion.

There was only the silence and the shadows of the forest. After a moment, Dad turned and walked back into the house.

It's a long time until Shikamaru can bring himself to follow.

oo

 **A/N**

Because I subscribe firmly to the school of tough love, I'm gonna warn you now: It's gonna get a whole lot worse before it get's better.

Eternal thanks to Cathy8taffy, lone sentinel who stands guard against the rising flood of my grammatical errors. Without her keen eye, you all might be well and truly lost.

Thanks!


	8. Endurance: Words of Truth (Part 1)

Shikako's room was flooded with sunlight far beyond what the early morning rays could achieve. It took her a truly breathtaking amount of time to understand what that meant.

When she did, she shot out of bed in a panic.

"Oh _fuck_!" Shikako fought with the blanket, haste making her clumsy. She rolled to her feet with a snap and jerked to a stop when she saw the empty space against the wall where her alarm clock had been. She stared at it dumbly until a voice at the door made her jump.

"It seemed like a good idea to give you the day off," Dad was leaning against the doorway, arms crossed loosely at his chest.

"The review – I can't-"

"It's been taken care of," his voice was serene in the face of her stammering frenzy.

Shikako didn't know what to make of the look on his face. It felt like her brain was running on a delay and her thoughts kept coming in strange, scattered bursts.

The corner of his mouth lifted and he jerked his head towards the stairs. "There's breakfast and tea, whenever you feel ready. Take your time," and with that he turned and left.

Shikako didn't know what to do with her hands. They fluttered against her front, smoothing the wrinkles down absently, before they crept up to finger the mass of tangles that was currently her hair.

Somewhere in between her chest and throat she could feel a lump forming. It was a tight, little ball of anxiety nestled deep in her core, a thing that made it hard to swallow and hard to breathe.

Dad was waiting. She could feel him downstairs.

The thought of fleeing out the window had a certain appeal to it.

She fortified herself with a deep, calming breath and shook her head.

No.

She wasn't going to run from this. It was time to face the music.

Her fingers hit a bad snarl in her hair and she winced. Maybe she'd face the music after a shower.

ooo

Cleaned and dressed, Shikako loitered at the top of the stairs. She knew, she _knew_ that Dad could sense her hesitation. That he would probably be reading a thousand different things from that one tell alone.

Yet she couldn't help it.

It felt like walking downstairs would be the point of no return. The point of _what,_ she didn't know, but she could feel it in her gut. She knew that something was about to change. It made her palms sweat and she rubbed them stubbornly against her pants.

She started down the steps.

Dad had never been a big disciplinarian. Neither had Mom, for that matter.

But a horrible, dark voice in the back of her mind whispered _Danger._ Lines had been crossed, by both her and Shikamaru. She tried to think about what had happened last night but each time she got too close, remembered too much, her mind shied away from it.

Shikako swallowed and turned the corner into the front room.

Her Dad was resting on the couch, eyes closed and posture relaxed.

Shikako calmly walked towards him and he cracked an eye. She had a flash of memory from earlier. _Shikamaru, laying back on his arms, eye cracked and glinting, cat-like in the darkness._

They really did look like each other.

"Would you like to eat first?" he asked.

Shikako shook her head. She felt too nauseous to eat. Dad eyed her knowingly, but gestured for her to have a seat.

Shikako sat and waited for him to speak.

The silence stretched and Shikako's mind started to wander to last night. Immediately, she could feel her mood darken.

They had been so terrible to each other.

There was so much anger in Shikamaru and she hadn't been expecting that. That _he_ was angry with _her_ had been a shock. It had made her anger rise in kind – a consuming, self-righteous fury. _How dare he?_ the dark voice in her head had whispered. _He isn't the one that's being pushed to his limits. How dare he be angry with me, after everything I've been through?_

Shikako knew that voice was a lie. Shame flooded her now and she looked down at her lap, eyes burning. It was simply too much to bear, the knowledge that Shika didn't trust her anymore.

She could barely admit it, even in the privacy of her own mind, but it didn't feel like she was keeping up with her teammates.

She used to look at everyone around her and think 'they're just kids'. Somewhere along the way that had changed without her even noticing. They had closed the distance between her and them, growing, learning, and maturing until she'd stopped looking around and seeing a sea of children and had started to just see...friends _._

And then they'd _kept_ growing, stronger and stronger until it defied words, defied even thought. _This_ was what she had known was coming. Sasuke and Naruto would grow up to accomplish what _every other living ninja combined_ could not.

They were going to become the strongest shinobi alive.

 _That_ was her goal, if she wanted to remain by their side.

She felt like she was grasping for the sun. It was so impossibly, hilariously out of reach. She was Icarus. Flying closer to her goals and getting burned the closer she got.

The only thing that had kept her unerringly on course was Shikamaru. He stood guard on her soul, braced against the tides of hopelessness, and kept the urge to give up at bay.

Even from the very beginning he had been the one she measured all others against. She suspected he would _always_ be that way. She had never told him how much she depended on him to stay sane and to grow strong.

To have hope.

If _he_ didn't trust her...how could she trust herself?

She could feel it, _all_ of it, slipping through her grasp, slowly moving out of reach.

Sasuke and Naruto were getting stronger and stronger. They were going to leave her behind if she didn't keep up. They _were_ leaving her behind. She was _failing._ Kakashi-sensei could probably see it in her too, that deficiency that Shika saw. No wonder sensei was avoiding her.

Her mind, her heart, her soul...they were slipping. And it was starting to feel like everyone could see it, like she was walking around everywhere with a flashing neon sign that read _'Damaged Goods!'._

Even foreknowledge was something she couldn't get right. After all, knowing the future hadn't kept her from dying.

She was waiting for the day when her team saw it, when they realized they'd made a mistake when they'd told everyone ' _Here's Shikako, the smartest genin in her class'._ Shikako didn't want to admit to herself that it felt like that day had already passed.

The burning behind her eyes grew and when she blinked, tears fell. They felt hot and humiliating, dripping silently down her face. She couldn't bring herself to look at Dad, because then he'd see too, and he'd _know,_ the way he always looked at things and knew.

 _He'd know._

She wanted to curl up in a ball and hide.

"I have a question for you," Dad said slowly.

Shikako forced herself to meet his gaze, shoulders shaking as she cried. Dad looked sad and it only added to her guilt that she'd disappointed him. She couldn't stop her tears or her trembling chin. He graciously said nothing about her lack of composure and after a deep breath, she steeled her spine and gave him a nod to continue.

"How long," he asked calmly, "have you been suppressing your pain?"

She crumbled, her throat was too hot, and too tight. She collapsed forward, face buried in her hands.

The dam burst.

Once it started, she couldn't stop. Lost on a great rising tide of sorrow, one that astonished her in it's breadth and depth. It felt like something had cracked her chest open and tipped her over until all of her grief poured out in huge, soul shaking sobs.

Dad made a soft sound and she could feel him move closer, but she couldn't see it through the tears.

It was messy.

Every nerve in her body was a raw bleeding edge. Her heart was breaking and she felt like she couldn't breathe, couldn't think. She keened through the tears, unable to articulate anything but the pure, unfiltered sounds of human suffering. Her body was wracked with it, shuddering and heaving.

Dad had knelt on the ground in front of her chair and held her around her shoulders. He was petting her hair and sending waves of calming chakra through her.

It was like trying to put out a house fire with a cup of tea. His chakra couldn't tamper it, couldn't even soften the cutting edge as it ripped from her throat in gasping moans.

Shikako was at war.

She could feel that darkness in her – could feel the wildness of it, the hunger of it. She looked over the edge and down into the abyss inside herself and screamed. It was like dying and being reborn.

She rode the edge of her sorrow until the purging of her sadness brought a horrible clarity.

She understood in that moment that there would never be a cure for this mark on her soul. There was a cavernous pit, rooted in the depths of her being, and it wouldn't be filled – not with all the tears of a lifetime. From within its inky depths rose her feelings of fear and grief and despair. It was a part of her, deep inside, undeniable and present.

"There's something wrong with me," it came out of her mouth without warning through the unfiltered fear of her heart.

"Yes." Dad's voice was low and soft, "You died."

Shikako's blood turned to ice in her veins. _He knows._

"Twice, the way Shikamaru tells it."

There was a warped sense of relief when she realized that he was talking about the _second_ time she died. Shikako leaned back from his embrace and wiped her face with trembling fingers.

"Of course, there was also the small incident when you were attacked by one of the strongest missing nin alive. Which, come to think of it, has happened more than once," his voice was dry, falling short of the humor he was aiming for. "One could even say that every single mission you've ever been on has been mentally, emotionally, or physically traumatizing."

On any other day, at any other time, Shikako was sure she would hate where this conversation was leading. At that particular moment she felt too numb to care, like every ounce of emotion and stress that she'd been bottling up for years had poured out with her tears, leaving a hollow cavity inside of her.

She nodded tiredly at him, too weak to protest.

"Sweetheart, it's impossible to go through what you've been through this past year and remain unchanged. It's not weakness to admit that you're unwell. The only person who doesn't seem to want to help you, is _you_.

"I want to show you something," Dad said softly. He reached for a kunai on the table next to him and gently brought it up until it was level with Shikako's eyes.

"What do you see?"

"A kunai," the words came out scratchy, voice roughened by the crying she'd done.

Dad didn't say anything and he didn't lower the blade. It stayed there, a hand-span or so from her face, pointed at the direct center of her forehead.

When the silence lengthened, Shikako mulled over his words. What _did_ she see?

He held it pointing straight at her, so that she only saw the barest amount of blade possible. If she drew it on a piece of paper, it wouldn't look like a blade at all. It would look like a diamond.

If Shikako had never seen a kunai before and this profile were the only angle she'd ever seen, she would have no real concept of what they looked like.

"I see a small diamond made of metal."

Dad nodded at that, slowly turning his hand. The blade turned as well and Shikako watched it, utterly focused. As it turned, the blade's shape became apparent. It lengthened and widened, profile slowly changing. When it came to rest parallel with her face, his hand stopped.

She had a perfect side view of the kunai now.

"What do you see now?"

"I see a small, sharp blade."

He let his hand slowly drop, face impassive. "Which one of your statements was correct?"

Shikako stopped to consider his choice of words once more.

Technically speaking _both_ answers had been correct, because they were both what she had seen at the time.

"Both of them," saying it out loud was like another piece of the puzzle slotting into place. She could feel it on the tip of her tongue, like she was just on the edge of understanding what Dad was trying to explain to her.

He was looking down at the kunai in his hands, thumb running gently over the sharp point of it. After a few moments he set the blade aside.

"Shikamaru sees the world differently than you. It's true that his mind leaps further ahead in battle than yours and that it allows him to utilize better strategy than you. It's also true that he can arrive at these conclusions swifter and with less error. That is only one half of the truth."

He waited until she met his eyes before continuing.

"From the very moment you were born I've witnessed your gift to see patterns that others, even your _brother_ , have missed. I've watched you, over and over, as you pull two threads and weave them together in ways no one else can, connecting the tapestry of information in your mind.

"Shikamaru sees the world like a Nara. _You_ see the world like a Nara. That does _not_ mean that you will both see the same thing."

Shikako thought if she had any tears left she'd probably cry again.

"Shikako," his voice deepened and it made the hair down her arms stand on end, "you have always turned your eyes toward the future. I'm not sure what it is you see on the path ahead, but I know that you feel a need to grow stronger to prepare yourself for it. I think this is wise of you.

"What's _unwise_ is allowing yourself to focus so much on the future that you neglect yourself in the present. I think perhaps it's time for you to focus less on what's to come and start to focus on what has already happened."

"I can't," her voice was broken. _There isn't time._

"Shikako," his voice was sad, "you are not coping."

There it was.

It hurt to hear it out loud, but Shikako had never been one to deny the truth when it stared her in the face. She had always coped by moving forward onto the next problem, the next task, and the next project. There was always a new deadline or a new reason to get out of bed each day.

Who had time for misery and grief when there was still so much to do?

It had worked so well, until now. It had gotten her out of bed each day and had driven her to so many great heights.

Then Team 7 had happened.

It was thrilling and scary and the easily greatest adventure she'd ever known. She could feel it, deep inside of her. In the place where she had boxed those things up and shoved them away to be dealt with another day.

She was losing herself.

Each point of trauma and pain was like a chip in the mask. Eventually, maybe even soon, she was going to break completely.

Shikako was lost. She turned pleading eyes on her father, who nodded at her and continued.

"You asked me to help you master the aspects of your soul and to help you use the shadows you carry within you. This is the next step," his face betrayed nothing, remained impassive. "You must face your pain."

Shikako sat for a long time, staring at the kunai.

She was utterly wrung out, drained of all energy. She had never really understood what Dad had meant when he'd warned her about the allure of their clan abilities. It had seemed so obviously foolish to give oneself over to the shadows and purge all emotion.

It felt like she had a fleeting glimpse into the suffering that shinobi life afforded and suddenly the choice between pain and a vast, empty _nothing_ wasn't as obvious as it had once been.

"How?" _How do I cope? How can I be ok with the things that have happened to me? How can I ever be ok with any of it? How do I keep going when I know there's only more of it to come?_

"There are many ways that people cope with this life. I've found the most effective is always the simplest," Dad rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "You need to talk about it."

Shikako briefly imagined telling someone her story, her _whole_ story, and so strong was her aversion to the idea she closed her eyes and grimaced. Dad chuckled softly at her.

"It's the most effective. I didn't say it was the easiest."

She opened her eyes and took a deep breath. One in, one out.

Dad had never given her bad advice before. If he thought this was the best way for her to heal, that was as good as a guarantee that it _was._ The problem was that she had secrets she could never reveal, not even to her family.

Shikako looked up at her father. He was calm and collected, patiently waiting for her. That he had led the conversation to this point and remained in his seat was telling.

She could feel her heart warm just a little with the silent love he radiated. Dad wasn't just frightfully intelligent – he was a _good_ man. He saw the depths of her trauma, pointed out the faults in her current path, and all without judging her.

He didn't say it out loud but she heard it all the same. _You need to talk to someone and that someone can be me._

Shikako hesitated.

"Dad," she picked at a loose thread on her shirt, avoiding his eyes, "thanks for letting me have the day off. I needed it."

"You're welcome, but I had nothing to do with that," Dad looked like he was about to laugh. "Shikamaru got up early this morning and went to the review board in your place."

" _What?!"_ Shikako flew out of her seat in horror. "That's not even possible! He doesn't know the first thing about seals! Or Trade Law. Or the review process! _Any of it!_ " the only thing stopping Shikako from flying out the door after her stupid brother was the fact that Dad was sitting across from her, wholly unconcerned.

"Should be troublesome for him, then," Dad sounded amused.

Shikako checked the clock on the mantle. It was nearing the hour used for lunch break. If she left right then, she could arrive during the break and sort out whatever mess Shika was in. Her eyes widened as she remembered something else.

 _Oh Kami,_ this was the morning Gaara was returning to act as translator.

Shikako winced. _That_ was going to be fun to smooth over. It was too late to do anything but damage control at this point.

"Dad," she turned to him apologetically, but he held up a hand and smiled.

"It's alright," he stood up and walked over to place a hand on her shoulder, "I know you have a lot to think about," He pulled her into a tight embrace, "Take your time. I love you."

Shikako's hands snuck up around his shoulders until she was gripping him fiercely.

"Love you too, Dad," she whispered into his chest.

It was the first time in a long while that Shikako felt understood.

ooo

She had crossed the village in good time, dropping down from the rooftops to land in front of the now familiar office building below. She could feel that they weren't there but decided to take a peek inside, if for no other reason than to see whether the place had survived the morning without her.

The hallway was empty, long rows of vacant chairs on both sides.

The review board's room was empty as well. With a sigh, Shikako wandered over to table and lifted up the docket that held notes for the morning's schedule.

There was a little star next to ten o'clock and a tiny blurb in Bachiko's handwriting that read "Product Approved". She could only assume that meant that Gaara's little merchant had been successful.

Wishing to know more, Shikako shuffled around through the paperwork in search of a report but none of it was in order. Apparently, the filing process had fallen apart in her absence.

"I hate paperwork," she sighed.

"See? _She_ gets it."

Shikako whirled around.

Tsunade was marching through the door wearing a grumpy scowl. Shizune shadowed her, holding a clipboard in front of her with an air of studied patience. Sakura trailed behind the both of them looking concerned.

"Shishou, the medical review panel has already dissolved. The head of the hospital will be tied in meetings until this weekend and there isn't anyone else qualified to review the product. The man came a very long way to sell his wares and I've been told he's considered something of a genius in his field. We can't just turn him away," Shizune's voice was pleading but her face was stern.

Tsunade marched up to the review table and took a seat on the other side of it. She gathered everything in front of her in one sweeping motion and dumped it into the seat next to her without ceremony.

"He missed the window for the medical product review, we shouldn't make any special allowances for him. It sets a bad precedent. You let one man through and pretty soon they'll all think 'Let's bother Tsunade with this! She has the time!'. Bah!" Tsunade crossed her arms and glowered.

Shikako walked over to the wall where Sakura was currently trying to hide.

"What's going on?" Shikako murmured, watching the two women still locked in argument.

"Don't you already know? You're _on_ the review board," Sakura gave her a strange look.

"What do you mean?"

"You know, this _morning_?"

"Ah," Shikako frowned. So something had gone wrong with a merchant this morning. Perfect. "I wasn't here this morning. What happened?"

"Oh, well, I guess that a merchant came through with some wares to sell, but it ended up that they were medical devices."

"Do you know what kind?"

Medical products weren't handled by the Trade Review panel, they fell under the purview of the Medic Corps. So far Shikako hadn't run into any products that had to be shuffled off to another department because they'd been misfiled, but of _course_ that would happen on the one morning she wasn't there.

Sakura shook her head.

"I don't care if it turns horse shit into gold dust, I haven't had a proper lunch in two weeks. He gets three minutes, and that's it!" Tsunade pounded the table with her fist making a pen roll off the side.

"Shishou!" Shizune's voice was full of censure. "He's _here_."

A short, bald man with a tiny mustache hustled through the door, shutting it behind him. He walked over to the table and hefted a heavy briefcase onto one end of it. Tsunade's eyes narrowed dangerously and she motioned Sakura and Shikako over with one hand.

They came around the table to stand close to Tsunade, who motioned them to lean down further.

"In five minutes, you come in here with a medical emergency, got it?" Tsunade whispered.

" _Shishou!"_ Shizune looked like she was about to burst a vein in her forehead, but Sakura was nodding seriously at Tsunade.

Shikako turned to follow Sakura out the door when Tsunade put a hand out to stop her.

"Take a seat."

"Hokage-sama?"

" _You_ can do the report," she said, crossing her arms.

Shikako sat reluctantly and pulled a blank Review report in front of her. The bald man was smiling and nattering on with Shizune in chipper tones. He struck Shikako as the brown nosing type and she took an instant, irrational dislike to the man.

"Thank you again for setting up this meeting on such short notice! What an honor it is to meet you in person, Hokage-sama, a real privilege. I was surprised, of course, when I was told that my product was medical in nature as I _had_ gone through the pre-screening process and had been _told_ that it would fall under Trade review. But I'm sure it was just a simple mistake, no harm done!" his smile was enough to fill Gai with envy.

Tsunade wasn't even looking at the man anymore. She was glaring at his briefcase, arms crossed and shoulders slouching.

"Well, as you probably already know my name is Ichi-"

"Get _on_ with it, man!" Tsunade barked.

The man startled, nodding profusely. "Oh, of course, of course! Ladies, may I introduce you to-" he reached into his briefcase with dramatic flair and whipped out- "The One Night Stand!"

Brandished in his outstretched hand was a very large, very lifelike dildo.

Shizune made a loud choking noise. Tsunade sat up straight in her seat, gaze suddenly interested. Shikako was considering seppuku as a viable option.

"Do you find the men in your life leave you wanting something more? Do you ever think your sex life could use a little more 'umph'? Do you ever long for something more but never know what that something is?"

Tsunade's head was bobbing along, face rapt with attention.

"Well no more! Gone are the days that any woman will be left wanting!"

"It's about time!" Tsunade slapped her hand on the table, making the whole thing shake.

"The One Night Stand will change the way women everywhere think about pleasure!" and with that, he flipped the dildo over to reveal a small seal on the bottom. He pressed the seal with two fingers and the dildo began to vibrate madly, filling the room with an obscene ' _Wrrrrrrr'_ noise.

Tsunade gasped, coming halfway out of her seat and eyes lighting up with an inner fire. Shizune started spluttering incoherently. Shikako could feel the pen slip from her fingers and fall to the floor.

"Hokage-sama, you must come quickly, there's a man...at the hospital...who..." Sakura burst through the door, made as if to rush to Tsunade's side, caught sight of the vibrating dildo and froze halfway across the room.

"Tell them the Hokage is in an important meeting. You," Tsunade pointed at Shikako and Sakura, "out!"

Shikako didn't even bother going around the table. She vaulted straight over and rushed to grab Sakura's hand (whose face now matched her hair) and together the two girls fled the room.

The door slammed shut behind them and they paused, unable to meet each other's eyes.

"That was..."

"Yeah..."

Shikako broke first, giggles bursting out of her until her eyes started watering. Sakura joined almost right away and the two girls fell against each other cackling madly.

" _Shut up out there, we're trying to work in here!"_ Tsunade's voice carried through the door.

That made the girls laugh harder as they stumbled toward the exit. They were almost to the street when a thought made Shikako freeze in her tracks, laughter choking off suddenly.

" _Holy shit."_

"What?" Sakura stopped laughing, turning around in concern at Shikako's tone.

"Sakura," Shikako met her gaze with wide eyes. " _Sakura."_

"What is it Shikako?" Sakura asked worriedly.

"I wasn't on the morning panel today. But Shikamaru and Gaara _were_."

There was a significant moment where both of them appreciated the mental image of Gaara and Shikamaru faced with a giant, vibrating dildo. The howls of laughter that followed were so loud even the foot traffic outside stopped to stare at the building's door.

Sakura's laughter wound down and she wiped her eyes, but Shikako kept going. Sakura chuckled at her friend's mirth, but when Shikako showed no signs of stopping, Sakura could feel the smile slowly slipping from her face. Still Shikako continued, until Sakura started to worry.

"Um," Sakura didn't know whether to edge away from the other girl or reach out and hug her.

Shikako was bent over, stomach cramping with laughter. There were tears spilling down her cheeks but she just couldn't stop. Her laughter was tinged with an edge of hysteria and she could tell Sakura was afraid now.

It took an effort, but Shikako finally got herself under control. She was still bent over, panting heavily. Tears were dripping from her face to fall on the floor.

"Are you okay, Shikako?" Sakura asked in a tiny voice.

"No," Shikako admitted quietly, running a shaky hand through her hair. "I haven't been okay for a while."

"I know," Sakura said softly, "we all kind of know."

Shikako looked at her sharply. Sakura shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

"You don't hide it as well as you think."

"Oh," Shikako rubbed her arms and looked down at the floor. "Sorry. I..."

The words stuck in her throat, refusing to come out.

"You should talk to Ino," Sakura said suddenly. "I don't know what Ino said when you two left my house the other night, but she's kind of under the impression that she made things worse."

Shikako's heart sank at that.

She'd been so lonely lately that she'd started to resent her friends. After all, how often did she drop everything to help them? To be there for them? A small, petty part of her had expected them to do the same without having to ask for it. But how _could_ they when she'd been keeping them at arms length?

"I- yeah. I will. Thank you, Sakura. You're a good friend," Shikako forced herself to meet her gaze and smile. It was a watery, pain filled smile, but it was real.

Sakura's answering grin was blinding.

"You know what this means, right?" Shikako pushed the door open and stepped into the sunny afternoon.

"What?" Sakura trailed after her.

"Shikamaru will _never_ take my place in anything, ever again."

It's a long time before their laughter fades.

ooo

 **A/N**

Please forgive the delay in posting this chapter, as it went through several revisions.

All hail my glorious beta Cathy8taffy, who's keen eye and steady hand is the only thing keeping this thing afloat.


	9. Intermission

The door swung open under Shikako's hand and struck the bell hanging above the doorway, announcing her entrance with a cheerful _'Ting-ling'_ noise.

Floral scents washed over her and she squinted against the sudden dimness of the Yamanaka flower shop.

Drying herbs hung in bunches overhead, stirring softly in the breeze of the open door. In front of her, floral arrangements stood in large porcelain pots on a row of low tables, tastefully displaying the season's current fashions. Against every wall and crowding every surface were overflowing baskets of flowers. It was a feast of colors and smells that drew the eye and beckoned one in further.

The air inside the shop was more humid than the street outside, in the way all greenhouses are. Shikako let the door swing shut behind her and took a deep calming breath.

"Ah, Shikako-chan, perfect timing! Would you be a dear and watch the till for me? I need to run an order upstairs, I'll only be a minute," Ino's mother Tomomi leaned over the glass counter that housed shining rows of apothecary bottles and little glass jars stuffed with herbs and spices.

"Um, actually I was wondering if Ino was home?" Shikako hedged. It felt wrong to turn down such a simple favor, but it had been a long day.

"I'm sorry sweetie, but she's not in right now. I think she'll be back from her mission tonight or tomorrow morning, if you want to come back then?" Tomomi went back to writing in a large ledger as she talked.

Shikako nodded, turning to run her hand softly over the petals of a tiger lily nearby. She drew her fingers back and stared at the orange pollen that coated them. She rubbed her fingers together and hummed thoughtfully.

"You'll only be a moment?" Shikako couldn't help it, it was like a compulsion. She had some kind of in-built complex that forced her to obey mother figures.

"Yes! Thank you so much, I'll be right back." Tomomi didn't give her time to reconsider, sweeping the ledger up in her arms and bustling into the back room. Shikako listened to her footsteps travel up the stairs and down the hallway.

She took a seat on the stool behind the counter, propping her chin on her fist, and watching the door.

There weren't any customers in the shop and the clock on the wall ticked loudly in the stillness of room.

It had been a toss up between finding Shikamaru or visiting Ino.

She had wanted to track the both of them down, to apologize and come up with some kind of explanation about her recent behavior. The concept of being vulnerable with another person, on _purpose_ no less, went against every impulse in her being, but Shikamaru and Ino deserved it. She couldn't think about the past few weeks without a sour pit of guilt twisting in her stomach.

It had only been an hour or so since her talk with her father and she was still feeling wrung out from it. It had been messy to cry and breakdown, but there was something inside of her that felt relieved, something that recognized how good it felt to let that stress flow out instead of keeping it bottled in.

It made her both wary and anxious for her talk with Shika.

She wanted to fix things and that would mean more messy conversation, more vulnerability. A large part of her shied away from that, but a small, hopeful part of her thought that maybe it would bring more of that coveted relief.

Shikamaru had been acting horribly in his own way, but Shikako was no longer sure that he was the only one at fault. She missed him, missed the calm and quiet, the steady presence of him in her life.

There is a strange state of mind that you enter after a good cry. Where you feel high on the release, high on the endorphins and the moment. A horrible, hard-won clarity where everything 'makes sense' to your brain. Shikako had rushed out in that state of mind intent on finding her brother and fixing things, right then and there.

She counted herself lucky that she hadn't run into him right away. She was still walking on an emotional knife's edge, her episode with Sakura had proven that. She had forced herself to stop and think things through.

Shikako needed to be calm before she found Shika and tried to talk things out with him. If she wasn't calm, things were liable to turn into another verbal spar and the _last_ thing she needed right now was to widen the rift between them through careless words.

Not to mention she didn't know if she could handle another crying session. If she saw Shika right then, crying was probably the _only_ thing she'd accomplish.

Finally there was the fact that if she tracked down Shikamaru now, he would absolutely _refuse_ to finish out the afternoon's Review Panel. He'd thrust those duties back in her lap and run screaming for the hills. Shikako wasn't big enough to admit she had no desire to work today. He wanted to be her stand in for the day? Fine. Let him finish what he started.

Reluctantly, she had changed course and headed for the second person on her list.

Things between Ino and her were...complicated.

After Ino had been attacked, Shikako had drifted away out of necessity. Ino needed time and space to heal. Ino's family had closed ranks around her in those first few weeks after the attack, making contact with Ino stilted and awkward.

It wasn't really an _excuse_ to avoid Ino, it was more of a reason.

For all appearances, Ino was doing just fine on her own. She had fallen into her Chunin rank with a single minded fervor, proving to be every inch her father's daughter.

On the outside Shikako had several justifiable reasons for drifting away from Ino. After a morning of heavy introspection, Shikako was afraid to admit that her motives were more selfish than she had first thought.

Shikako still dealt with a lot of guilt. Being around Ino was like being confronted with a constant reminder of how badly she had failed to protect one of her closest friends.

Maybe it had been that guilt or maybe it had been the need to be considerate of Ino's mental state, but Shikako had been withdrawing from her in small increments. It made her uncomfortable to realize that she no longer knew why they weren't as close as they once had been. More unsettling still was the fact that Ino had noticed it before Shikako did.

Ino had been reaching out, trying to bridge that gap. What had Shikako done? Withdraw further.

Shikako felt a chakra presence shifting around on the second floor and she straightened from her slouch as it drifted towards the stairs behind her. She could hear the footsteps, a deliberate sound made in a polite effort to broadcast his approach.

Shikako stopped herself from turning around as Inoichi came out of the back room behind her. He was wearing a house yukata and his hair was pinned back away from his face in a long, blond ponytail. His movements were graceful as he drifted past Shikako and over towards the herb section.

"Good afternoon, Shikako," his voice was cordial.

"Good afternoon, sir," Shikako couldn't help herself from searching for Tomomi's chakra signature. She was still in one of the back rooms upstairs and it didn't feel like she was about to come to Shikako's rescue anytime soon.

She relaxed her shoulders and tried to summon every ounce of ' _don't look at me! Nothing to see here!'_ that she could manage.

He reached up and clipped two fronds of dried hazel from a bundle hanging near the back wall and turned toward her with a smile.

 _Dangit._

"It's good to see you! It's been awhile, hasn't it? How have you been enjoying your life as a Chunin?" Inoichi came to stand on the opposite side of the counter, setting down a pair of scales. He weighed the hazel with a steady hand, taking down numbers on a scroll he produced out of thin air.

"It's different than I thought it would be," Shikako willed Tomomi to hurry. Inoichi _never_ just chatted with someone. This might seem like small talk to the casual observer, but Shikako could spot an interrogator at work from a mile away.

"Hmm," Inoichi made a politely interested sound, eyes never straying from the careful notations he was making.

"I mean, not _bad_ different, just different," Shikako's mouth clamped shut awkwardly. _Just shut up, don't fill the silence. It's the oldest trick in the book!_

The clock ticked loudly and Shikako refused to fidget.

 _Scritch, scritch, scritch_ went Inoichi's pen.

Shikako could feel her chakra pulling in, smothering itself in a halfway instinctive attempt to disappear. She smoothed it out as soon as she caught it, but he'd undoubtedly picked up on the nervous gesture.

Inoichi finished whatever he was writing and looked up at her with a warm smile.

"Any fun missions lately?" he leaned forward on his elbows, posture relaxed.

"Not really," Shikako hedged.

"Oh?"

"Sort of. I mean, it's just the one mission," Shikako offered. He tilted his head in silent question and she continued almost against her will, "I've been working on the Review Board for this year's Trade Summit." She felt his chakra, deep and constant. She knew it wasn't probing, that he wasn't using any of his clan's mind jutsu.

It was just some freakish effect he had, like standing in his presence alone forced a person to blurt out whatever they were thinking. Shikako tried not to feel cornered. _Then_ she tried to hide the fact that she _did_ feel cornered.

She clasped her sweaty palms together in her lap.

"Review Board? _Well_ ," Inoichi leaned back and gave her a significant look.

Shikako clenched her jaw and refused to spill more. She _would not_ babble.

"Forgive me if I'm being presumptuous, Shikako-chan, but that job doesn't sound like a very good fit for you."

"I'd like to think I'm doing well," Shikako snapped _._ Her hackles went up and she had blurted it out before she had caught herself. _Oh my god,_ what _was_ it about Ino's dad? For a brief moment her mind had remembered Shikamaru's comments. ' _You're not the most qualified, you're just the most convenient fit'._

"Ah, forgive me, I didn't mean to doubt your work ethic," Inoichi leaned closer, like the two of them were sharing juicy gossip. "It's just, it doesn't fall in line with your training, wouldn't you say?"

"My training? I've been expanding my abilities with Fuinjutsu a lot lately," Shikako frowned.

"I didn't mean your personal training, per se," Inoichi waved his hand dismissively. "I was thinking of your team designation."

"Team designation?" she frowned at the deliberate phrasing. It was a term she didn't recognize and she hesitated to make any assumptions.

"Well, what purpose do you think Team Kurenai was made for?" Inoichi prompted.

"Tracking," with a Byakugan, an Inuzuka's nose and kikai bugs, the answer was painfully obvious.

"Correct. And what about Team Asuma?"

"Intelligence and logistics?"

"Correct again. Now, what about Team Kakashi?" Inoichi looked like a predator closing in on prey.

"Oh," Shikako hadn't ever framed the thought that way.

The fact that teams were rigged had been obvious, even before they'd been assigned. Shikako had always assumed that Ino-Shika-Cho was formed out of nepotism and that Team 8 had formed out of the desire to group all the tracking talents together.

Team 7 had always been 'the leftovers' in her mind, grouped together for the sole reason that Kakashi was the only one who could manage a Sharingan user, a jinchuuriki, and there wasn't anywhere else to put her.

It was a startling thought to realize that maybe Team 7 had been formed with a specific function in mind as well. If Shikamaru's team were all intelligence specialists, Team 8 were all tracking specialists, then the thing that tied Team 7 together was-

" _Combat_."

"Correct again. Team Kakashi is a _Battle Unit,_ " Inoichi leaned back looking satisfied. Shikako didn't know how to respond.

"If things were to go wrong on the front line and Hokage-sama needed to level the playing field, she'd send in a team like yours. Back in the war, we used to call them the 'Oh Shit Squads'. It's what we'd hear from Kumo or Iwa when those teams hit the ground." He was smiling with all his teeth and his hands jumped around as he talked, body language screaming _relax! This is just a casual talk between friends_.

"Seems odd that you've been picked up for a desk job, wouldn't you say?" Inoichi tapped his chin and made a thoughtful sound. When Shikako didn't respond, he went back to cleaning up the scales in front of him, grabbing the hazel, and rolling up his scroll.

Tomomi finally stirred somewhere upstairs, moving around in circles. Shikako could feel her chakra spike in irritation, or possibly in excitement. It could be hard to tell if she didn't know a person well.

"Have you enjoyed working on the Review Board?" Inoichi wasn't looking at her. Shikako felt the pressure of his attention anyway.

"Um," wow, she could _not_ wait for Tomomi to finish up and return.

"I see. Well then," Inoichi tapped the counter and gave her a long look. "I suppose that's something to think about."

There was a wonderful stretch of silence as he walked away to shelve the scales and the scrolls in his hands. Shikako watched the door and did her very best to appear uninteresting. A random fact about zebras jumped unhelpfully to the front of her brain. Sometimes when zebras were in large enough groups, they wouldn't even bother to run from approaching predators. They'd group together in large masses until their patterned coats would blend together. It was a stupid, pathetic gamble for survival by hiding in plain sight.

As Inoichi finished his busy work and turned to walk towards the counter once more, Shikako thought she understood the _freeze and pray for mercy_ impulse far too well.

"Shikako," Inoichi was walking around to her side of the counter, "it's none of my business what you do with your time. I certainly don't want you to think that I'm trying to meddle in your affairs, but you're like family to us and I feel the need to say something.

"You've been Ino's friend for a very long time and I know that you are both very busy with your new ranks," he gently laid a hand on her shoulder and she couldn't stop herself from looking up and meeting his gaze, "but Ino is still recovering and she isn't going to heal properly without you in her life.

"Don't misunderstand me, she loves your brother and the rest of her team very much, but she's had their numbers from the day they first met. If Shikamaru or even Chouji pulled away from her, she'd be hurt. If _you_ withdrew from her, it would cripple her completely."

Shikako's breath left her in a soft _whoosh_. Tomomi was at the top of the stairs, swiftly approaching.

"I hope you appreciate the power that gives you." Inoichi's voice was suddenly colder, a hidden steel behind his words. Shikako suppressed a shiver. He squeezed her shoulder and let his hand drop as he stepped away. Tomomi came round the corner in a rush, arms full of paper slips.

"Out of my way, you big behemoth!" Tomomi shoved at him with her elbows, sounding exasperated. "I need help all morning and where are you? Gone in the wind! Now that all the paperwork is done, _here you are._ "

She started filing the slips with furious intent, bleeding irritation in a tangible cloud of emotion. Inoichi looked askance at her, posture suddenly defensive.

"Tomomi, my lovely flower, it's so good-"

"Don't you _lovely flower_ me! Quit dodging work and let Shikako be on her way! _Honestly,_ we should have the poor girl on payroll at this point," Tomomi groused.

Hands free, she whirled around on Shikako with a tender look. "Thank you so much for helping out dear, I know you have places to be. I'll let Ino know you dropped by the moment she comes home!" She made cheerful little shooing motions with her hands.

Shikako ducked around the couple and walked to the door as quickly as manners would allow.

Behind her she heard Tomomi's voice hissing something about _nosy men_ and _leaving_ _that bullshit at work._

The door swung shut on Inoichi's flustered reply.

ooo

She walked home. Actually walked.

Not hopping along the rooftops or speeding across the streets.

Just walked.

Shikako felt tired in a way she couldn't define. It had been days since she'd last pushed herself in training. Her body felt like it was buzzing with unspent potential, it made her itch, and made her squirm. Behind her eyelids, her eyes felt puffy, sore, and each time she blinked it felt as if her eyelids were made of sandpaper.

Her head was pounding. Any benefit she had reaped from finally getting a full night's rest was gone.

There was a tension in her shoulders and neck that wouldn't bleed away no matter how slow she walked or how many calming breaths she took. Before she'd even decided where to go next, her feet had already started on the path home.

It had been a very long time since her chakra sensitivity had bothered her, having dimmed from a roaring flood to an easily assimilated flow of information. She could feel everything now in a terrible, distracting way.

Every person she passed pressed down on her mind in a miasma of emotion, chakra and bright, pricking heat. It bled off the trees that she passed under and the grass that she stepped on. It singed her lungs with each breath. It beat down on the top of her head from the sun far above. Chakra was everywhere, inescapable, and smothering. It took the frayed edges of her mind and rubbed at them until she felt like she was going to burst into tears, right there in the middle of the village.

The world was too big or else she was just too small in it.

Shikako was done.

 _Fuck_ today. It had been an _awful_ day.

She made it home and found the house empty. The silence made her relax, ever so slightly. Shikako wasn't going to go out and track down anyone else. She would wait here and talk to Shikamaru when he came home tonight.

She climbed the stairs wearily and shut her bedroom door behind her. Sunlight streamed through her window in one bright sunbeam. When Shikako fell forward on to her bed it kicked up a cloud of tiny dust motes that danced in the light. Shikako watched the little specks of dust swirl in the invisible eddies of air and her mind drifted.

She would just take a quick nap and when Shikamaru came home, they would talk.

Just a quick nap.

Just...a...

ooo

Shikako jolted awake, blinking fuzzily against the darkness.

A soft green glow made her turn over. Against the wall her alarm clock had been returned and a little note sat on top of it. Shikako fumbled for it blearily and opened it to read " _Vacation's over!"._

Nonplussed, Shikako sat up.

The clock read 03:18. Shikako rubbed her eyes and yawned.

She could feel Shikamaru in his room, across the hall. His chakra was smooth and steady, obviously at rest. Somewhere downstairs her Mom was still and present. Dad wasn't home.

Shikako frowned and rolled out of bed, shaking the stiffness out of her limbs. She felt gross after falling asleep in her clothes and stopped to change, before silently creeping out of her room.

She could see a light on at the bottom of the stairs and walked towards it.

Seated at the kotatsu with a blanket around her shoulders was Mom. Shikako was halfway across the room before she realized that she was slumped over, sleeping at the table.

Shikako paused indecisively before creeping the last few steps and laying a hand on her Mom's shoulder, shaking it gently.

"Bwuh? Shikaku?" Mom snapped upright, red splotches marking her face where it had been laying against her hands.

"Hey Mom, it's late. Do you want to head to bed?"

"Shikako! You're-" she broke off with a yawn, "-you're up late. I was just going over a few things," she gestured to the paperwork on the table in front of her.

"What is it?" Shikako stuffed her legs under the blanket, wiggling in beside her. The moment the blanket fell across her lap, she was engulfed in a blast of heat that made her toes curl, and sent a pleasant wave of goosebumps down her back.

"Ah, well," Mom was fully awake now, rubbing the back of her neck distractedly, "I've just been going over some forms. I've been..."

Shikako looked up as Mom trailed off slowly. It wasn't like her mother to be hesitant. The indecision in her mother's tone set off alarm bells in her head. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes! It's nothing like _that,_ it's just...do you remember me mentioning going back to active duty? I've been thinking about it a lot lately. Well, this week more than ever and I think...I think I'm going to," she gave Shikako a one-armed hug, smiling down at her. "It's about time. You and Shikamaru aren't getting any younger. You're both _Chunin_ now. I guess I just assumed it would take longer but..."

Shikako stirred uncomfortably. "Mom..."

"No, stop that," Mom gave her a stern look, "I'm proud of you both! I am. It's just, the house is awfully quiet these days. It'd be good for your Mom to get out some more, you know?"

"What does Dad think?" Shikako picked at the table in front of her, trying to smother the guilty feeling within. Her Mom sounded sincere, but all the same Shikako couldn't suppress the feeling that she'd been neglectful.

"He thinks whatever I tell him to think!" her Mom winked at her. The joke fell flat and after a pause, Mom sighed. "He thinks...that I should do what makes me happy. Your father trusts my judgment, sweetheart."

Shikako didn't know how to feel about it. Mom had always been home, everything else had always been _shinobi,_ and the two never really crossed over. It was unsettling to think of her mom taking missions and walking around in uniform again.

"Oh! You got some mail today. It came this afternoon, but I didn't want to wake you." Mom dug through the pile of paperwork until she produced a small letter.

Shikako felt suspicious when she noticed the dark golden envelope, her suspicions grew when she turned it over, and saw the bright red seal for the Hidden Village of Sand. What were the odds that she'd be able to open this in private?

"A Sand shinobi brought it straight to the clan gates and your Aunt Hachiko had to screen it for traps. Do you have any idea what it's about?" her Mom was peering over her shoulder conspiratorially.

"No, but I might know who it's from," Shikako turned it over in her hands.

"Well? Open it!"

Shikako sighed and broke the seal. Two pieces of paper spilled into her hands. The first was large and stiff, a decorative type of vellum used in formal announcements. The second looked like it was ripped hastily off a cheap note pad.

She started with the larger, more official letter.

It was folded in an elegant origami pattern that had multiple arms pointing towards the center. She pulled one of the arms gently and the whole page opened like a blooming flower to reveal a large, stylistic picture of a kabuki mask.

In flowing calligraphy, it read:

 _One night only,_

 _Sunday the 16th_

 _come and experience the world renowned drama of_

 _ **The Jade Hand**_

 _Doors open at 5, program begins at 6_

 _Invitation required, seating assigned_

 _221 W Maple, The Boar's Garden, North Gallery_

Shikako actually had _more_ questions after reading that. She set it down and inspected the second note. It was covered in sloppy handwriting, scrawled across a small piece of notepaper stamped with The Boar's Garden insignia. It looked like something one would find next to their nightstand in their hotel room.

It read:

 _Hey Sparky!_

 _The Jade Hand are legendary! I haven't seen them in forever and I'm pissed that I only found out they were in town this morning. We've already missed all their other shows so we can't miss the last one!_

 _You've gotta come! Don't be lame._

 _-K_

 _PS – Don't wear your battle gear, it's the opera._

The words 'lame' and 'opera' were underlined several times.

"What on earth," Mom made grabby hands at the formal invitation, snatching it up for a closer look. "Oh! I've heard of them. They're supposed to be the best in all the nations, but I didn't think they were something kids your age were into. Who's it from?"

"It's from Kankuro. The Kazekage's oldest son."

Her Mom gave her a look that spoke volumes and Shikako reared back with exaggerated horror. " _No,_ Mom, it's not like that!"

Mom laughed loudly. "Relax sweetie, I won't say anything."

"There's nothing to _say,_ " Shikako muttered darkly.

"Alright, alright, I was just teasing. So...friends with the Kazekage's son? That's still a big deal. What does your Team think about it?" Mom's voice was coy, but her eyes were laser focused.

"They're friends as well," okay, so 'friends' was a bit of a stretch on Sasuke's part. Honestly, she wasn't entirely sure that Kakashi-sensei could be friends with _anyone_ who didn't wear green spandex and make dynamic entries.

"Oh? So they received invitations too?" Mom could be annoyingly perceptive when she wanted.

"Maybe? I don't know, I haven't talked to them in a while." Shikako didn't think so, but she didn't want to give her Mom any more encouragement.

Mom 'hmmed' thoughtfully and let the issue drop.

She leaned back with a yawn and stretched her arms high over her head.

"I think it's time for me to head to bed. Help me clean up?" Mom was already getting up. Shikako nodded and shivered against the cold blast of air that hit her legs as the blanket lifted. The table was quickly cleared into a folder of paperwork that ended up tucked safely under her Mom's arm.

"There's leftovers in the fridge if you want to eat before you head back to bed. It's so nice to see you, sweetie," her Mom leaned in and kissed her forehead, lingering in a warm hug.

"Mom," it was easier for Shikako to talk like this, face tucked into her mother's shoulder.

"Yes?" Mom went still against her, voice soft.

"I'm sorry that...that I haven't been myself lately. I've been having a rough time," Mom squeezed her harder at that, but didn't interrupt. "It doesn't have anything to do with you, okay? You're an amazing Mom," Shikako's voice wobbled a bit at the end.

"Shikako," Mom made a concerned sound.

They held each other for a quiet moment before her Mom whispered fiercely, "You are one of the strongest people I've ever met, Shikako. You'll be fine."

Shikako felt the tension bleed out of her shoulders for the first time all day. Slowly they drew apart and despite sleeping most of the day away, Shikako suddenly felt tired.

"I think I'm headed to bed too."

"Good night, Shikako," her Mom turned to head up the stairs.

Shikako didn't linger. Moments later her bedroom door closed behind her and she crawled under her covers. She was asleep within moments.

ooo

 **A/N**

Facts:

1\. The next chapter will be full of Gaara.

2\. Cathy8taffy is still an incredible beta, to whom I owe a gigantic debt of gratitude.

3\. Edurance: Words of Truth (Part 2) is coming up _next._ The break in between the two parts is intentional.

4\. I wrote the Theater Nerd!Kankuro before I had even read Silver Queen's version. So much excitement happened when I got to that part in Dreaming of Sunshine and realized my version was accidentally canon. Woo!

5\. I re-wrote the interaction between Shikako and her Dad in the last chapter three times, just to get it perfect, and y'all motherfuckers went nuts over the dildo. _Never change, you beautiful weirdos._


	10. Endurance: Words of Truth (Part 2)

The house was silent.

Shikako could feel the soft thrum of her Mom's chakra at rest in her room. The rest of the house was a hollow void, empty and waiting.

Dad never came home last night.

Shikako stared at her ceiling, waiting for the shrill beep of her alarm. Her mind drifted from one thought to the next with no clear purpose.

She'd woken long ago.

Long enough to watch the night deepen, to watch it fade and pale as the sun began to rise. Long enough to hear the first bird calls outside her window, to catch the hushed cries of greeting as the early risers within her clan began their morning chores.

Long enough to feel Shikamaru rouse himself and leave.

She had lain there while he woke.

She'd imagined getting off her futon, walking out of her room, stopping him. In her mind, she threw her arms around him and they embraced and she hadn't let go. Imaginary Shika and Kako had talked. Laughed. Hugged.

Shikako never got up. Never walked out.

Shikamaru puttered around his room uninterrupted and eventually left. Shikako had stared blankly at her ceiling the whole time.

She had slept so long. Why did she still feel so tired?

Her arm twitched, some aborted reflex to make a fist, to strike out.

She lay there, seething, nowhere to direct her rage. She counted breaths slowly and watched the ceiling lighten with each passing minute. Eventually the anger bled away. In it's place was a great, empty numbness.

Apathy.

Maybe she would stay in bed today.

Maybe she would close her eyes and drift back to sleep.

Maybe she would never move and never think and never feel again.

She would lay there until the spiders came and wove webs around her, until the dust settled in a thin veneer across everything, even her. She would hide under it, turning grayer and grayer and anyone who came in wouldn't see her, wouldn't _know._ She'd just be a fixture in the room, on the futon, on the floor. Slowly blending, color leeching out until people stopped coming, stopped looking for her. Until the memory of her faded more and more, and people would ask _'Shikako who?'._

Maybe-

The alarm broke through her thoughts and the image melted from her mind, a painting soaked and running until the colors dripped away, lost forever.

She sat up slowly and turned it off.

Time to go to work.

ooo

So much of our life happens without us noticing.

Some might claim this is due to our lack of attention, but the truth is that our brains don't work on a single level. They work on many.

As Shikako walked to work she wasn't thinking about moving her legs, one step after another. She was thinking about stopping and getting something to eat (she decided against it).

As she passed the market and turned the last corner, she wasn't thinking about digesting yesterday's meals and slowly pushing the food through her intestines. She was dreading the upcoming workday and trying to beat back her feelings of helpless rage.

When the office building came into view, she wasn't thinking about pumping the valves in her heart, circulating blood through her veins. She wasn't thinking about breathing, one lungful of air at a time.

She was worried that her appearance would give away how tired she felt, worried even more that it would invite terrible questions like ' _Are you okay?'_ and ' _How are you feeling?'_.

So many things in our lives are managed without our consciously thinking about them and sometimes, if you repeat a task long enough, it will stop being something you think about and will become just another one of the many things your mind oversees on its own.

It was for this very reason the academy drilled students over and over on their katas, hoping to develop that automation.

Muscle memory.

The drawback of being on autopilot is that if your routine changes, you run the risk of _missing_ the change. Say for example you always leave your lunch pail by the door and grab it on your way to work, but one day you leave it on the counter instead and, consequently, you forget it because it's not a part of your routine.

Or keys.

Leave your keys in the wrong place and you run the risk of losing them.

Shikako stood awkwardly in front of the office building, having walked the whole way without once thinking about her keys. It wasn't until she was at the top of the stairs, standing in front of the doorway that autopilot finally disengaged and she _remembered_ them.

Shikamaru had taken them from her room yesterday.

He must have, to unlock the building and report to work in her place. He'd probably left them at home, in some obvious place that she was meant to notice them and grab them. But it wasn't a part of her routine and she _hadn't._

Well, then.

Crowds of morning people churned around her, kicking up a brume of dust in their energetic bustle. Shikako contemplated the merits of breaking into an office building in broad daylight.

She had every right to be there and probably wouldn't get in trouble for it, but it would be tantamount to admitting that she'd lost the keys.

Genma had said they were the only pair.

He gone to all the trouble of _specifically_ telling her _not_ to lose them.

Fuck.

"Good morning," Bachiko was shuffling up behind her, but that wasn't what had Shikako almost crying with relief.

In Bachiko's only hand were the keys _._

"Good morning," Shikako nodded politely. She could have hugged the woman. She didn't, but she _could_ have.

She held out her hand in silent request and Bachiko dropped the keys in them.

Once inside they climbed the steps to the third floor in silence, opening up the Review Board's room and flipping on the lights.

"Here," Bachiko was sifting through a pile of paperwork at her seat, pulling out a few of them and setting them to the side. "You'll need to sign these."

Not a problem. It was only a few-

Bachiko dropped another pile of papers onto Shikako's stack.

Okay _,_ so it was only a _dozen_ or so-

Bachiko dropped an even taller pile of papers onto Shikako's stack.

Shikako valiantly refused to groan.

"The Panel was very... industrious yesterday," Shikako's tone was diplomatic but the glare she sent the mountain of paperwork was anything but.

"That's not all from yesterday, Nara-chan. Our last round of reviews is today, so we'll need the finished Intake Reports by the end of this shift."

"Today? I mean, _already?_ " Shikako felt a little poleaxed. She recovered quickly, invigorated by the sudden appearance of a finish line. "That's great! I'll have them prepared in time."

"Don't get too excited," Bachiko's lips quirked up, amused. "There's still the Archival of this year's wares, the meeting and debriefing with the Guilds, the Appeals from this year's and last year's rulings, as well as-"

"I understand. Thank you, Akimichi-san," Shikako didn't want to hear any more. "I'll have them prepared in time."

Bachiko nodded and the two settled down with the arrival of Yoshe and Old Man Ken.

Shikako could feel that gray haze descending on her mind almost the moment the Review process began.

Her pen flew across the pages efficiently.

Her mind wasn't on the task. It wasn't elsewhere either. She'd checked out, falling into that numb rhythm of automation.

Muscle memory.

The morning slipped away.

ooo

True to Bachiko's predictions the trickle of merchants slowly tapered off as the morning progressed. By the time they broke for lunch the building felt hushed and vacant.

Around her the others were drifting away, presumably to find something to eat. Shikako's head remained bent to her task, appetite non-existent.

It wasn't that she felt particularly motivated to complete the paperwork. It was just...something to do.

It took her almost a whole report before the quiet huffing noises pierced the fog in her brain. Her pen stilled, frozen over the paper and her eyes lifted to find Yoshe standing on the other side of the table. The woman was agitated, digging through her handbag and making soft tsking noises.

An awkward moment ensued in which Shikako felt Yoshe should have looked up and acknowledged her questioning gaze.

Yoshe pursed her lips, movements jerky as she ignored the teen.

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that you _stare_ like that. Kami knows you've no _other_ manners to speak of."

Shikako blinked.

 _What?_

"...Typical Nara," it was muttered under her breath.

"I'm sorry?"

"Don't play stupid!" Yoshe slammed the purse down, dropping all pretense and meeting Shikako's baffled look with a heated glare. "You've been nothing but rude to me from the moment this assignment began! You think you're _so_ smart but you're nothing more than a spoiled-"

"Hold on-"

"-Stuck-up _child._ You must think it's _so_ entertaining to boss around your elders-"

"I've never bossed anyone-"

"-Don't interrupt me!"

" _Enough!_ " Shikako slammed her hands on the table, rising to her feet so quickly her chair clattered to the floor behind her.

Yoshe sneered, lip curling into such an ugly expression that Shikako could mark the gleam of white teeth.

"I do _not_ know what you're talking about," Shikako tried to inject sincerity in her words, though it probably came out more confused than anything else.

"You," Yoshe leaned into Shikako's space, the table between them the only thing preserving distance, " _Heard_ me. You're arrogant and conceited and I'm _done_ dealing with your attitude. I intend to file a formal complaint."

The words hung in the air like static, charging the moment with tension.

Yoshe was righteous in her fury, ready to launch into another tirade, but it was Shikako that broke first.

Gradually she deflated, rocking back on her heels, letting her hands fall limply at her sides.

"You…" Shikako began in a quiet voice.

Yoshe straightened, bracing herself.

"You don't exist."

"What? What on Earth are you-"

"You _cannot_ exist."

"Stop speaking nonsense! Didn't you hear me? I'm going to file-"

" _You cannot exist._ I refuse to believe it. You are too ridiculous."

"W-what?! How _dare-_ "

"No!" Shikako voice rose in a hysterical shriek. Yoshe seemed to choke on her rage and Shikako's voice softened in the brief lull. " _No_. It's... it's too much. Don't you get it? People like you don't _exist_ in real life. You're like a bad character in a book or a children's story. You're so _mean,_ and for no reason. I refuse to believe it. People like _you..._ don't exist. People aren't...aren't…" Shikako felt like she was on the edge of laughing. Or fighting.

Actually, it would be _great_ if they could just start fighting now.

Yoshe drew back slowly, eyes like chips of ice. "You are such a _child._ People _always_ have a reason."

Clearly done, she stomped out of the room leaving silence in her wake.

Shikako watched as a piece of unfinished paperwork fluttered on the table before tipping over the edge drifting slowly to the floor.

The clock ticked loudly on the wall in front of her.

Shikako bent over, gently picked up her chair, and tucked it back into place.

She sat down and stared blankly at the papers.

Mechanically, she picked up the pen and began to work once more.

ooo

The panel of three Review Board members (sans one Yoshe) reconvened after a longer than usual lunch. Neither Bachiko nor Old Man Ken seemed phased in any way by the absence of the middle aged Chunin.

Shikako ignored the final round of merchants and sat woodenly in her chair.

The paperwork was finished.

The final merchant left.

It was still only two-thirty in the afternoon.

Bachiko turned in her seat and opened her mouth as if to speak, then seemed to think better of it. She awkwardly reached across her body with her only arm to pat Shikako on the shoulder.

"I'll...I'll make sure these get filed today, Nara-chan. Why don't we wait to hear from the Guild about our schedule next week, eh? Have a nice weekend."

Shikako tensed.

For one painful, irrational, _inexplicable_ second she wanted to draw the kunai from her hip pouch and _slash_ the hand on her shoulder. Open, grab, swing, _slash._ Her hand twitched.

The rage was gone in a flash and in its wake came a cold wash of horror that nearly left Shikako trembling.

But Bachiko's hand was withdrawn and the woman was already standing, walking out the door after Old Man Ken, completely oblivious to the violence the three of them had just dodged.

Right before Bachiko shut the door she met Shikako's eyes, mouth turning down in a grim line.

 _Maybe not so oblivious._

The door clicked shut and Shikako jerked to her feet, barely making it to the trashcan in the corner.

She crouched over it, stomach cramping painfully, and waited for the vomit to come.

The vomit never came.

The trashcan waited, empty.

The clock on the wall ticked, louder and louder.

Shikako exploded out of the window and didn't slow down until she hit the Clan gates.

ooo

"It's just not often we get to do something, just the two of us! Can't you manage a little more than that, love? You've hardly touched your Bluefin."

" _Mom…_ " Shikako considered it a personal victory that she wasn't slumped over her dish, asleep at the table.

She'd rushed through the door only an hour before, ambushing her Mom in the middle of household chores. In a baffling turn of events, Mom had scraped together a complete lunch and tea in less than half an hour, insisting they enjoy an impromptu afternoon luncheon.

Shikako rubbed her eyes and sighed.

She could cope with the apathy. She would even figure out a way to cope with the random bouts of anger. It was the waves of exhaustion that were going to be her downfall.

Why was she so tired all the time?

The conversation with her Mom required little input on her part to maintain momentum. Shikako propped her chin on her fist, pushing the food around with her chopsticks, nodding and humming agreeably at regular intervals.

Every few minutes her eyes would land on the front door and bounce away again.

 _Where was he today…_

Shikako was so distracted that it took several seconds for the silence to hit her. By the time she turned toward her Mom with a questioning look, said parent was already standing to clear away the dishes.

Shit, what had they been talking about? Had Shikako missed a question? Was she supposed to be the one talking right now?

But Mom didn't seem upset, just tired.

Shikako lifted a bite to her mouth and slowly chewed, watching her Mom's back through the doorway to the kitchen.

"Mom?"

"Hmm?"

"When is Shika coming home today?"

"Not sure," her Mom's voice was careful as she glanced over her shoulder. "I could-"

"No, it's fine. Don't worry about it, I've...I've got some time off. I'll just wait around the house and catch him when I can."

Mom nodded thoughtfully, watching Shikako disappear up the stairs.

ooo

The rage was back, full force.

Shikako stood in front of her closet door, half dressed and fuming.

Somehow Shikamaru had managed to know _exactly_ when she fell asleep and also predict _exactly_ when she would wake up.

It had been no chore to find things to occupy her time yesterday afternoon and she had loitered around the house the entire rest of the day, unwilling to leave on the off chance that Shika would return and they would miss each other.

She'd taken a bath.

She'd revisited some research.

She'd fed the deer.

She'd even come down as the day waxed away and helped Mom prepare dinner.

In a bizarre reversal of their recent patterns, Shikako found herself eating with Mom and Dad, waiting for her brother to make an appearance.

Both her parents had been unhelpful when she'd delicately inquired if they expected Shikamaru to be out much longer.

Shikako almost pressed the issue out of frustration, until her Mom had tartly remarked that Shikamaru was "an adult in the eyes of the law" who could come and go as he pleased.

Shikako had blanched, suitably chastised by the reminder of her scathing remark during _The Argument_ earlier that week.

Shikako had then slunk back to her room, resolving to simply wait her brother out instead.

Shikamaru was a creature of habit, but more than that he was a creature of efficiency. It was in his nature to take the path of least resistance, without fail.

All she needed to do was make it clear that the two of them sitting down and talking was _inevitable_ and he'd bite the proverbial bullet.

She passed the time in her room, chakra sense on high alert for her brother's return.

But he'd known. How had he figured it out?

That damn exhaustion she'd been battling all week conquered her sometime before midnight.

Shikamaru must have timed it impeccably, arriving precisely after that point.

Shikako had jerked awake Saturday morning, brain fuzzy for all of two seconds before she remembered her vigil last night and she sat up in a flash, wide awake.

And then she felt it.

Shika's chakra, painting a neon trail in her brain, starting at his bed where it was the most concentrated (ostensibly because he'd spent the most time there), then leading down the stairs, detouring briefly into the kitchen before passing through the front door and disappearing out of range.

It was mere moments old.

She had _just_ missed him.

Again.

Once was a fluke. Twice was a goddamn pattern.

She stood there, fists clenched and eyes stinging.

Ok, so maybe it was a little bit hypocritical of her to be angry about Shika avoiding her, given everything she'd done recently. But she was turning a new leaf here and apparently Shikamaru was dead set on making it as difficult as possible. Shika! Who never exerted effort on anything in his life! _Why?_ Why was he being such a- such a-

"Argh!"

Out in the hallway, Yoshino paused. That had sounded like an _angry_ Shikako.

 _Oh dear._

Yoshino knocked softly on the door, frowning.

"Sweetheart?"

No reply.

"Sweet-"

The door swung open abruptly, and Yoshino's eyebrows shot up at the dark look on Shikako's face.

There was a beat of silence where Shikako puffed up a bit more, red in the face, before slowly deflating. Shikako looked so pitiful that Yoshino had to hold back the inappropriate urge to snort. She had her suspicions about the source of this morning's drama, but Shikako beat her to it, speaking first.

"Did Shikamaru say...did he stop for breakfast?"

Yoshino didn't miss the aborted question, nor the way that Shikako was gripping the door handle so tightly her knuckles were turning white.

 _Ah._

Suspicions confirmed, Yoshino fought back a sigh. _Teenagers_.

"He didn't seem to have the time this morning."

Shikako nodded, hand unclenching from the handle. Her gaze was already shifting toward the window over her shoulder, face distracted and distant.

Yoshino could almost visibly mark the moment apathy crept into her daughter's brown eyes and something deep in her chest ached with it.

 _This had better resolve itself soon,_ Yoshino mused. The sound of heads being knocked together echoed ominously in that thought.

"Why don't you come down and I'll make you some breakfast?"

If she chose to take Shikako's barely there nod as an enthusiastic affirmative, well.

She'd endure this familial discord for a little while longer and perhaps the twins would be mature enough to resolve things in their own time.

Yoshino walked down the stairs planning a meal of fried mackerel and sprouts when Shikako's despondent expression took over her thoughts. Yoshino swallowed against the tight knot of unease.

She'd endure it a very _little_ while longer.

ooo

Breakfast might have been an entirely monosyllabic affair on Shikako's part if it hadn't been for a passing comment that pricked at the edge of her awareness, making her sit up and listen closer to her Mom's rambling.

"...even though it's Spring colors, it could be trimmed with gold accents and still look in season. I don't think there's enough time to buy an entirely new one, in any case. Not before tomorrow."

"Buy a new what now?" Shikako sat up, squinting at her Mom with a confused expression.

"Kimono, Shikako. More rice, sweetie?"

Shikako waved away the offered dish, feeling a bit lost. What did Kimonos have to do with anything?

"...Tomorrow?" Shikako drew the word out hesitantly, lifting her cup to her lips. Was it a holiday? Oh Kami, she hadn't forgotten another birthday, had she? Shit.

"For your date, Shikako."

Yoshino's years as a Chunin honed her reflexes just enough that she dodged most of the spray of tea from Shikako's mouth.

"Shikako!"

"Mom!" Shikako coughed wetly, hands flapping and eyes comically wide. "What- I don't - _what date?!_ "

" _You're_ cleaning up this mess, I hope you realize."

"Mom," Shikako's palms slapped down flat against the table, her face deadly serious. "What do you mean ' _date_ '?"

"You can't _possibly_ have forgotten, Shikako, not even you. That fancy invitation your Aunt Hachiko had to screen for traps? Ringing any bells?" Yoshino made a disgusted face as she dabbed the tea off her seat with a napkin. "Honestly, I'm making you mop this whole floor, young lady."

"The invitation."

Mom started stacking the dishes, rolling her eyes as she did so. "Yes, dear."

"...Which was a…"

"A date. That was my impression, yes."

 _Thud._

Shikako's forehead landed on the table in between her hands.

Her gusty sigh was muffled by the tablecloth.

"I was just saying that you could borrow my gold obi to wear with your green kimono. It would go quite well, I think. Better than anything else you have. You know, I keep telling you that your wardrobe could use a bit of freshening up, honey. Maybe this year we could-"

"Mom," Shikako's voice was a study in strained patience. "As I said _before_ , there isn't anything like that going on. Kankuro and I- _the Kazekage's son_ and I have no relationship. In fact, I'm not even sure why I received an invitation in the first place. We barely know each other."

Her Mom made a soft 'hmm-ing' noise, nodding reasonably.

"So, just friends."

"Yes."

"And this Opera… it's just a friendly invitation?"

" _Yes._ "

"Nothing more."

Shikako narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"And he's asked you to dress up for him….as a friend?" Mom stood up and carried the dishes into the kitchen, smiling sweetly.

" _Mo-om…._ " Shikako's head fell back against her chair with a groan. "Seriously, I don't even know why…" Her voice trailed off weakly.

But a tiny, niggling kernel of doubt was already blossoming in Shikako's brain.

What if she had misjudged this whole thing? It wouldn't be the first time that messy, relationship stuff had caught her off guard. What if Mom was right?

A frown tugged at her lips and the doubt grew, making her stomach flop.

 _Shit._

Now she wasn't going to be able to stop thinking about this. Shikako rolled her head around to stare balefully at her Mom as she walked back into the room.

Mom had the audacity to chuckle.

"Why, Mom? _Why?_ "

"Because you seemed so earnest the other night when you said there was 'nothing there'. You would have ignored this, wouldn't you?"

Shikako sank a little further into her seat, grumbling. "Why did you- I mean, why does it…"

"Yes?" Mom prompted, crossing her arms.

"Why does it even matter? How Kan- how _this boy_ feels? He's leaving soon and, and…"

"And?"

"And...it just doesn't matter!" Shikako struggled to find the right words. This conversation was edging dangerously into territory she'd rather avoid entirely. _Forever,_ if possible.

"It matters to _you_ , sweetheart."

Shikako stared at her blankly until Mom sighed.

"Shikako, you're a very bright young woman. _Exceptionally_ bright, some might say. But sometimes, well, you get lost in that big head of yours and things - regular, old _people_ things - catch you off guard."

' _Shikamaru, for example...'_ loomed unspoken in the conversation and Shikako looked away uncomfortably.

Mom sighed again, mouth pinching into a tight line.

"Shikako...you know that I only want you to be happy."

"Mmm," Shikako nodded softly.

There was another pause in which Yoshino seemed to struggle with something before she leaned forward, resting her arms on the back of her chair.

"How did the invitation make you feel? When you first opened it?"

Shikako's nose scrunched up. "...Nothing, I guess. I mean I...didn't really feel anything?"

"And how do you feel _now?_ Thinking of it as a date?"

"I feel…." Shikako blew out a breath slowly, hair stirring gently around her face.

"Yes?"

"...I feel upset."

" _That,_ " Mom leaned forward further, voice dropping emphatically, "Is why I pointed it out. Not to hurt your feelings, love, but sometimes you can be a bit...dense."

There was a contemplative silence following that.

Contrary to her earlier threat about having Shikako clean everything, Mom started picking up the remainder of the dishes and bustling around the kitchen.

Shikako lingered at the table, mood thrown.

"Why…" Shikako trailed off, unable to form her question. Mom gave her a knowing look and said nothing.

By the time the table had been set to rights, Shikako had turned the corner from shock, passed straight through unease, and was firmly settled on righteous indignation.

"Mom?"

"Yes, love?"

" _I'm going out._ "

Her Mom's lips lifted in a private smirk as the front door slammed shut a moment later.

ooo

Gaara hadn't started life as only a Jinchuuriki and nothing more.

He'd also started life as a Nobleman's son.

Most people never remembered that aspect of his upbringing, though. Of course, given his historically homicidal tendencies, it was understandable. He didn't begrudge that people thought of him as monster first, Jinchuuriki second, and (possibly) Nobleman's son as a distant third.

It was just the way things were.

Gaara had always been a unique case, like that.

Even recently, the things Gaara lived through were singular and isolating.

Few people in the history of all humankind would experience the kind of transformation Gaara had undergone. So few people, in fact, that Gaara was beginning to realise he lacked the adequate language to describe it.

Though Gaara had technically been a child, his personality had been well formed before his first trip to Konoha.

Years, literal _years_ of bloodlust - without rest, without pause, without mercy, without any modicum of restraint - had accelerated him far beyond the realm of childhood. Though young in years he was old in mind, doubly so after weathering the violence and insanity that had birthed him.

The transformation he undertook after meeting Naruto was so profound that mere words failed to capture it.

It started in his internal world, that place within.

Like a biblical flood, old courses his thoughts had always followed were swept away, washed clean.

His mind was renewed, and fresh, unfamiliar thoughts took over.

Ideas he'd never tested, concepts utterly foreign.

It was unsettling in the basest sense of the word. His very brain went through upheaval and the proverbial dust was still settling down. Only time would tell what parts of his personality had remained.

This was a New Gaara.

A New Gaara with a brand new perspective.

That first month had been the hardest, where his internal world clashed horribly with the external, causing confusion and chaos and strife.

In all his relationships there was fear where trust should be. Hatred occupied the spaces where love was meant to reside.

Yes, Gaara knew he had changed. It was convincing everyone _else_ of this change where he faltered.

How do you explain to someone the business of being reborn?

He pondered this often.

It was a daunting task.

Naruto made trust and love appear so easy.

Gaara was born a Jinchuuriki but this wasn't what saved him when he returned to Suna a changed man.

Being a Nobleman's son did.

He had no language to describe his metamorphosis, no way to bridge the gaping chasm between his own reality and the reality of those around him.

He looked at everyone in his life with brand new eyes and saw things he'd never seen before.

And what he saw made him tremble to his core.

So much he had missed.

So much he didn't understand.

He had never felt more like a child than he did that summer.

The miasma of hatred and pain his brain had stewed in all these years had blinded him, blinded him to _everything_.

Simple tasks took on utterly profound meaning.

Was there a proper way to brush one's teeth? _Gaara didn't know_. He'd never _cared_ to learn before.

What about walking down the street? Was there a friendlier way it could be done? A way to do it without scaring the local children who played ball in the courtyards?

Was there a kinder, less intimidating way to meet another's eyes?

Or what about eating dinner?

Bathing?

Talking?

Thinking?

The world was a large and unnerving place and Gaara, fool that he was, had neglected to learn about it before now. Was it already too late to become a student of these normal, everyday things that other people took for granted?

Gaara fell back on the diplomacy lessons from his early childhood with the single minded fervor of a zealot. It was beyond his ability to act natural around others. _So he would act polite._

Gaara didn't trust his own knowledge of relationships. Ignorant though he was, even _he_ could tell that he was blind to social nuance.

But etiquette. _Etiquette_ he knew.

Manners saved Gaara.

Thank Kami he had been born a Nobleman's son because he wouldn't have survived his transformation otherwise.

For the most part, the people of Suna didn't act as if anything had changed. People still cringed in fear. Some even openly fled his presence.

Those closest to Gaara had noticed, though.

He had never been the most...expressive person. Until last year almost every emotion he'd ever displayed was followed swiftly by violence, destruction and death.

The New Gaara might be humorless and stoic but when compared to the _Old_ Gaara, his lack of bloodshed elevated him to proverbial sainthood.

It had taken months, but Temari and (to a lesser degree) Kankuro had seemed to warm up to him. Perhaps they saw more than they let on. Perhaps they even deduced that this new, mannerly Gaara was an earnest attempt on his part to express his deep commitment to a new way of life.

To his immense relief, Gaara had been able to rely on his Etiquette training to safely navigate this scary, new world of relationships without any major faux pas.

Etiquette rarely failed him.

Key word being ' _rarely'_.

There were times, though they didn't happen often, when he still found himself at a loss.

Strange situations that Diplomacy Classes just hadn't covered. Bizarre slices of life that occurred between the margins of an Etiquette Book, instances that no childhood tutor could have ever anticipated preparing him for.

Tellingly, such instances usually involved Kankuro.

Today seemed like it was going to be one of _those_ days.

Gaara knew he didn't deserve any gifts from the universe.

He had wrought so much pain and misery already in his short life that he had no business asking the cosmos for favors. And yet a very small, very human part of him wished that there was an easier way to become proficient in these things, or perhaps even skip these things entirely.

Like angry women, for instance.

Angry women flummoxed Gaara.

He always seemed to say or do the wrong thing when the women in his life were angry. He ran up against the troubling paradox wherein being _calm_ seemed to anger the women _further._

Kankuro assured him this was a typical symptom of the male condition, but then, Kankuro _had_ been flexing his sense of humor in their fledgling relationship, leaving Gaara with the dubious task of second guessing all of his brother's 'advice'.

Gaara didn't think being happy was the proper response. He couldn't be certain, but he suspected being cheerful might inflame a woman's ire even more than being serene.

He couldn't pretend to be sad on anyone's behalf, mostly because he was still unclear what, exactly, 'being sad' entailed.

Getting upset would just alarm anyone in the vicinity.

He couldn't fake sympathy, and it felt dishonest to fake empathy.

Being polite failed him.

But what else _was_ there?

Gaara decided he would much rather face an angry man. Or an angry politician. Possibly even an angry sensei.

An angry enemy-nin actually sounded enjoyable.

An answer eluded Gaara and so he had resolved, in the privacy of his own mind, that he would simply avoid angry women in the future. It had seemed an elegant solution at the time, surely the best one he could come up with.

He was failing a bit in the execution of it, however. Take today, for example:

"-which he has _no_ business dictating. I am _fully_ within my rights to wear ' _battle gear',_ " Shikako made air quotations with her fingers and rolled her eyes, "Anywhere I please. And who calls it 'battle gear'-" (more air quotes) "-anyway? It's archaic! And that's another matter-"

Gaara didn't sweat.

It might have been the byproduct of being a Tailed Beast Container, but he suspected it had more to do with growing up in the desert.

Sweat wouldn't give him away, but he felt certain that the wild, frankly _systemic_ , panic currently gripping him would betray him regardless.

It would probably be his eyes.

They were probably widening in abject horror, even as he schooled his face to purge all emotion.

Any second now and she'd notice. Offense would surely be taken and all that anger would inevitably turn on _him_ and escape would become impossible.

"-in Konoha. In the future, _all_ such correspondences can be directed through the Shinobi Mail system, forwarded through the proper channels. One can _not_ simply walk an official missive to the Clan Gates-"

She was moving her hands decisively as she spoke.

Her voice wasn't raised, at least there was that.

Perhaps her anger was mild? A mere annoyance? Her face was calm and her voice seemed perfectly level. But he'd never heard Shikako speak so much at once.

No, she was angry. Some long forgotten survival instinct had awoken in him. Gaara was _certain_ this was an angry Shikako, however deceptively calm she appeared.

Gaara _tried_ not to stare as she gesticulated emphatically, but the motions were distracting.

Would it be considered antagonizing to stare at her hands? Perhaps it would anger her further.

But no, he couldn't just keep staring at her eyes. He was _sure_ that was considered aggressive. How long ago had he blinked? Temari was always reminding him to blink more because staring without blinking " _is really freaky, Gaara"._

Gaara blinked.

"-which your brother would _know_ if he knew me even the _tiniest_ bit. Which, apparently, he _doesn't_ -"

Ah yes, Kankuro.

His brother _did_ always seem to be at the source of Gaara's difficulties.

Perhaps he could dodge her ire by keeping her focused on Kankuro?

Possible.

It might prove tricky as Kankuro wasn't presently in their hotel room, the doorway of which Gaara was currently trapped in.

Or maybe…

Maybe that would work in Gaara's favor? All he had to do was inform Shikako that Kankuro was elsewhere and she'd leave to go find him.

 _Hmm…_

" _-is_ it with _brother's_ thinking they know everything _,_ anyway? One would think that a _brother_ would be more in _tune_ with-"

He would simply inform her that Kankuro wasn't present.

An adequate solution.

He'd tell her.

Any minute now.

Just as soon as she stopped talking.

Any...minute now…

"-which is patently false. One simply needs to remember that all shinobi swear an _oath_ to uphold-"

He couldn't interrupt her.

It wasn't that he had any qualms about interrupting people, you see.

Contrary to what others might believe, Gaara _did_ realize that it was considered rude to interrupt.

He often did it anyway.

He just couldn't bring himself to care about injuring someone's misplaced sense of pride when it wasted so much of his time.

Only, this was Shikako. _Angry_ Shikako.

Even _he_ understood that she was one of the only people that made an effort to go beyond the call of 'ally' and foray into the novel realm of 'friendship'.

Were they friends?

His eyes narrowed in contemplation.

…Possibly.

He was at an impasse, then.

Interrupting her would be more useful than weathering her misplaced fury, but what if it angered her further? Or worse, what if it redirected her anger at _him_?

"-make it clear that I respectfully _decline_ his invitation, given the improper nature of-"

Gaara was overthinking this.

Shikako was one of his most cunning allies.

He needn't interrupt her at all. He would simply signal her non-verbally and she would understand. She was perhaps one of the most perceptive people in his acquaintance, after all.

Easy.

Gaara maintained eye contact and very deliberately lifted his chin.

He brought it down carefully, nodding his head.

"-at which point I will review options, choosing the course most-"

Gaara waited, with a growing sense of frustration.

This wasn't working.

Well.

He had tried.

"-duty, not only to my village but to _myself_ -"

Perhaps they weren't meant to be friends after all.

Perhaps it was his destiny to anger her, to drive her away.

"-has been made clear to me, through recent revelations that-"

He felt a twinge of genuine grief at that.

This was one of Naruto's most precious people, someone who- in defiance of all logic -seemed to not completely despise Gaara.

Perhaps- that is...perhaps he had hoped that, maybe…

Gaara shrugged off the emotion, bolstering his nerve. He was many things but he was not a coward.

Very well.

He opened his mouth to speak and marked the moment that Shikako recognized he was about to interject, heard her pause as she finally met his gaze.

Before he got a single word out, Kankuro barreled around the corner, nearly running over the kunoichi in the process.

"Gaara! You won't _believe_ who checked in to the hotel last night- Oh! Hey, Sparky."

Objectively, Gaara knew the timing was coincidental.

But when Shikako whirled to face his brother with a strange gleam in her eye, Gaara prayed a silent _thank you_ to the universe anyway.

Just in case.

ooo

A/N: Hey, not dead here. Apologies about the major hiatus. I am back now and intend to complete this story. You can expect another ten chapters? Maybe? Probably a little bit less than that, but we're reaching the sort of halfway point in the story I have planned.

Thanks for sticking with me this long and for all the well wishes and positive feedback. Hopefully the next update will be in a week and a half-ish!


	11. Yes-Yes

One thing that continually amazed her was the fact that life as Nara Shikako, even during it's most _incredible_ moments, had never felt like it was part of an Anime.

From the outside perspective that must seem hard to believe. There were people with pink hair and ninjas that walked on walls and the most _ridiculous_ things kept happening to her and her team, but well... even so.

The world as she experienced it was too fundamentally present, too immediate, too three dimensional. If she ever thought about the _Naruto_ story from her last life and compared it to the life she was currently living, she inevitably framed the thought as " _I suppose that story was actually based on a real place"_. It never even occurred to her to think of herself as trapped within a tale.

It simply wasn't a fairy tale on this end of things; it was a whole life, a whole existence, a whole planet of people and places and events. For every heart pounding moment of her life in Konoha, there were ten million boring ones not worth writing home about.

A random ten minutes spent waiting in an uncomfortable chair. Time spent washing her clothes or making her bed. A brief moment where she felt like she was going to sneeze, then didn't. A time she accidentally bit her cheek while chewing her food and then the entire rest of the afternoon that she spent periodically tonguing the wound. A time she fought back a yawn during training and the way it made her ears pop. Having to hold it for ten minutes until she could make it to the nearest bathroom. Having to _use_ the bathroom, for that matter.

Ten thousand micro-moments happening every day that, when taken as a whole, ensured life moved at a sedate and linear pace. There were no short cuts she could take, no ability to 'jump' between 'major scenes'. No plotline _._

She and everyone else around her just...lived life.

It had been an age since she'd even thought of this as the "Naruto World". To Shikako, it was just "The World".

 _A_ world, in any case.

One of them.

Maybe there were many more worlds?

If she spent time thinking about it (which she tried not to), she sometimes wondered if there were more stories like this one from her last life. Stories that masqueraded as fairy tales, stories that no one even suspected existed as real, living, breathing worlds.

Maybe the Jungle Book was about a real place and somewhere out there, in the vast reaches of the infinite multi-verse, there was a young boy named Mowgli who had been raised by wolves and bears and panthers. Maybe Narnia or Middle Earth existed. Maybe they _both_ existed, on the same planet at the same time _,_ no less.

It had no real bearing on her at the moment and did nothing to change the reality of her life as Nara Shikako, but from a philosophical standpoint it was a diverting thought.

Back to the main point though.

Shikako had never, ever, at _any_ point just sat back and thought "My God, I'm in an Anime."

Today, though.

 _Today_ _she might finally get there._

Shikako currently sat on a frigid, wrought iron chair in a sheltered courtyard, hot cup of tea perched against her lips. The morning had warmed, but only barely, and she inhaled the fragrant steam that curled out of her teacup to waft delicately in her face.

The Boar's Garden, in fulfillment of it's namesake, had extensive grounds that began near the front gates and extended all the way up to the base of the Hokage Monument. They contained a disorienting clash of Bonsai shrubs and Old World greenery, trees and flowering vines which vied for space in a dizzying battle of hidden walkways, sheltered alcoves and quiet rock gardens

The weak morning sun had finally struggled over the tree-tops to shine down on the Tea Gardens at the hotel and sunbeams streamed through the slim, winter foliage, making whimsical shadows dance across the glass tabletop in front of Shikako.

In the summertime the grounds were undoubtedly a riot of blooms. At present the gardens lay dormant, bushes and trees stripped bare of vegetation by the winter season. Pale branches arched overhead in a latticework pattern that must have taken decades to manage. The resulting stillness held its own kind of tranquil beauty.

Magical as the landscape was, it wasn't what tipped Shikako into the surreal and made her genuinely question her reality.

It wasn't even the outlandish, deeply improbable series of events that led to her currently sitting in the Gardens either.

Shikako was no stranger to the unplanned twists the universe seemed to constantly throw at Shinobi. So when she started her day in a depressed stupor only to find herself pounding on the door of a visiting dignitary's Hotel room an hour later, she couldn't say she was _entirely_ shocked.

Mind you, she _did_ feel a bit embarrassed about going off on Gaara the way she had.

Shikako had spent the whole journey to the hotel composing a list of perfectly rational reasons why Kankuro could take his invitation and shove it _straight up his ass_. By the time she'd arrived at the doorway to his shared room with Gaara, she'd been a _teensy_ bit wound up. Then Gaara had answered the door and he was such an aloof listener that she'd felt compelled to give a _brief_ explanation about her sudden presence and then _that_ explanation had grown and one thing led to another and, well...it just started spilling out, you understand.

At least Gaara was too socially inept to realize what a nutcase she'd been. Thank goodness for small mercies.

But even Gaara, it seemed, couldn't remain silent forever. Just as the redhead opened his mouth to interject, Kankuro came barreling around the corner.

Which, _thank you_ , Universe.

Shikako may have felt the tiniest bit of embarrassment about her rant at Gaara but she held no such misgivings about the tongue lashing she'd given Kankuro. Bizarrely though, Kankuro had waved her off, robbing Shikako of the rage she'd worked up and leaving her off-balance.

(..."-which is why I will _not_ be able to attend tomorrow's-"

"Yeah, yeah, sure Sparky, don't come if you don't want to. Listen, you're _never_ gonna believe this!"...)

In a move worthy of his Puppet Master title, Kankuro not only managed to deflect Shikako's ire, he somehow manage to redirect Shikako _and_ Gaara to the courtyard for tea. A tea (Shikako had _just_ been informed) to be shared with the mysterious 'Guest' that Kankuro _literally would not stop talking about_.

The man behind the enigma was truly beyond belief.

His name was No-No.

Correction, his _moniker_ was No-No. Shikako had no clue what the man's real name was.

No-No wasn't just a theatre critic, he was _the_ theatre critic. No-No single handedly decided the direction the theatrical arts would follow each season in _all the elemental nations,_ if Kankuro was to be believed.

No-No was a Big Deal. You could almost hear the capital letters when Kankuro hissed that information to Shikako and Gaara as they rounded the last bend on the pathway leading to the private Tea Garden.

No-No was in town for the last night of the Jade Hand's production of their critically acclaimed Opera, _The Lonely Fish-Wife_. He had allegedly breezed into the Boar's Garden just that morning, at which point Kankuro had spotted him from across the lobby through the crushing sea of bodies. Even from afar the man was highly recognizable.

Shikako quickly prepared several exit strategies, all of which were perfectly polite and (more importantly) would let her bow out of her unexpected inclusion to their soiree in a diplomatic manner. She had no intention of rubbing elbows with the pretentious civilian elite, nor of wasting her first proper day off in ages taking tea with a _clearly_ unhinged puppeteer and his jinchuriki brother. She _did._ Really.

Then Gaara and her had rounded the last bend, an excited Kankuro pushing at their backs the whole time, and she got her first look at No-No.

All the words promptly died on her lips.

No-No sat at a circular, wrought-iron tea table with an even larger glass table-top. All around the table were the strangest characters Shikako had ever seen. Each person was bedecked in garrish raiment, participants in some kind of unspoken contest to wear the most outlandish outfit possible in some kind of off-kilter fashion one-upmanship.

There were flowery kitchen aprons and large, straw sun hats. One person was wearing a monocle, another was wearing face paint in a rainbow of colors. There were fuzzy slippers and top hats and bejewelled canes and scarves and feather boas. Half the people in attendance were a confusing mixture of sensual and androgynous.

But none of them, _none_ of them, could compare to No-No.

The man himself sat at the furthest side of the table. In contradiction to the traditional tea-ceremony Shikako had expected, there was a large English tea setting, towering platters of tea cakes and all.

On No-No's head sat an imposing powdered wig that had been shaped into a beehive hairdo, the top of which seemed to be crowned with an _actual_ bird's nest, tiny birds included. No-No's face was painted white while his eyebrows and eyes were heavily defined in dark charcoal. His lips were turned down in a posh frown, punishingly thin and painted a bright, glossy red. Right under his nose was one large beauty mark, also painted in dark charcoal.

He wore a long dress. Not a kimono or a robe, an _actual_ ballroom gown with sequins and fringe, though his broad shoulders held up a fur mantle in dark colors. Balanced on the edge of his nose were a pair of vanity sunglasses in the softest shade of blue, and it did little to hide his piercing eyes which swept the table every few moments. He would tilt his head forward and look at people over the rim of the glasses in an affecting manner, which he probably felt leant him more gravitas but Shikako thought made him look like an old school-marm.

With one hand No-No held the grip of a leather leash which was attached to a carved, wooden goose on toy wheels sitting next to his chair. His other hand rested on the edge of a rose tea-cup, pinky poised delicately in the air even though he wasn't taking any drinks.

Here sat a man who made ninja fashion look positively mundane. Shikako hadn't realized that was _possible._

It was impressive, is what it was.

Surely she could be forgiven for the shocked silence that carried her woodenly to the table while Kankuro's hand at her back maintained her momentum. The eclectic gathering paused to acknowledge their arrival while Gaara took the empty seat at her right hand, Kankuro sitting on the other side of him _._

Conversation resumed when No-No gave an uncaring sniff and waved his hand, as if telling everyone 'carry on'.

At a loss of anything better to do, Shikako sat down and accepted a cup of tea. She took a sip and watched the proceedings, finding herself bizarrely entranced. It was all so wonderfully surreal.

She hadn't been sitting down longer than a minute when it happened.

One moment, she was taking what she intended to be her final sip of tea before she would sneak away from the party, curiosity satisfied. The tea cup was against her lips and she inhaled the soft scent of the drink. The next moment-

"Shikako?"

The party seemed to halt, all heads turning towards the pathway. Standing at the gate of the Tea Garden were Choji and Shikamaru flanked by Jounins Anko and Kurenai. Shika hadn't shouted, hadn't even raised his voice. Nevertheless, he had somehow managed to pack such earnest confusion into that one word that everyone turned round to take the spectacle in regardless.

Shikako could feel the exact second when everyone followed the path of Shika's confused gaze and all eyes settled on her. And that... _that_ was the moment.

 _My God,_ Shikako thought faintly. _I'm in an Anime._

"Good morning, No-No-sama," Kurenai's elegant voice cut the tension softly. "We are representatives of Konoha, and we've been granted the privilege of being your guides for the duration of-"

" _Maaar-_ velous! Simply wonderful. Such drama, such _intrigue_ ," No-No clapped his hands together loud enough to make several people jump. His hawk-like eyes were zeroed in on Shikako, darting quickly between her and her brother. "You two are having a lover's quarrel, yes?"

"No!" Shikamaru barked, whole body recoiling in horror. Somewhere to Shikako's right Kankuro was clumsily covering his laughter with a cough.

"The tension, it simply _compels_ one. Come, come, I _must_ know this story," No-No gestured vaguely between the Nara siblings. Shikako sat frozen in place, so stunned that she felt detached from things. It was as if she was sitting there watching all of this happen to someone else.

Kurenai seemed stymied, brow turned down in confusion. It was Anko that saved the moment with an inelegant snort, pushing past the other arrivals to claim a seat at the table and breaking the frosty silence. The rest of them followed suit and meandered forward, claiming any spots that remained. Shikamaru grabbed a chair and dragged it around, shoving it in between people to make a spot on Shikako's left.

No-No pursed his lips and ' _hmm-ed_ ', but when he didn't press the issue his entourage followed his cue and the soft murmur of conversation resumed.

Shikamaru sat down stiffly, hands shoved into his pockets.

The silence around their spot at the table was intense.

 _Okay, okay, don't stress. This could be a lot worse,_ Shikako tried to think calmly. _I can still get up and leave. It won't look like I'm leaving because Shika just arrived. And if it does, I'll just...explain it later. Yeah…_

"So-"

"Good morning, Nara-san," Gaara cut off Shikako politely, leaning forward the tiniest amount to nod in Shikamaru's direction.

It was a testament to how well Kankuro knew his brother that a greeting which sounded completely innocuous revealed everything. Kankuro's eyebrows shot up and he leaned forward sharply, eyes darting back and forth between Shikamaru and Gaara in surprise.

"Wait, you know _him_ too? I thought you only ever hung out with…" Kankuro trailed off vaguely, gesturing at Shikako.

Gaara stared placidly at his brother. After the silence stretched a few awkward seconds Shikamaru slouched a little further in his seat and murmured a reluctant, "We've met."

"Bro," Kankuro was giving Gaara a measuring look, "You're really getting around. Gotta say, it's kind of cool."

Shikako's brain was stuck imagining the reactions on both their parts when Shika and Gaara had 'met'. 'Cool' wasn't the word that came to mind. 'Awkward'. 'Bizarre'. 'A contest to determine the most indifferent boy in the world'. Then her mind segued into thinking about the conditions prompting said boys to meet in the first place and a question that had been bugging her for several days resurfaced.

"What _was_ that merchant trying to sell, anyway?"

In perfect synchronization Gaara and Shikamaru froze. Gaara stared straight ahead and could have been made of stone.

"'Kako! Th-that's- you can't-" Shikamaru was going bright red and slowly sinking further into his seat.

Shikako blinked. _What on earth?_

The Wind Merchant had been carrying something unfamiliar, sure, but it was still just a _blade._ It was a bit like encountering those strange forks at a fancy dinner - sure, you might not know what the fork was _specifically_ for but it was still very obviously a fork. The merchant's blade had been hooked and had deep grooves along the length that flared out at regular intervals, making its particular use unclear but, _well_ , there were only so many things a sharp blade could be used to do.

Perhaps it was some kind of torture device? Shikako felt a familiar well of irritation bubbling up inside of her. She was _really_ getting tired of Shikamaru treating her like a delicate flower. Her mouth pinched in a tight frown and she picked up her cup of tea in an effort to remain calm.

"Surely it can't be _that_ shocking, Shika. Some of the tools _I've_ used might surprise you."

" _Shikako! What the fuck?!"_ Shikamaru was too professional to make a scene, but while his voice was quiet, it easily conveyed a deep disgust.

"Ok, now _I_ gotta know what this thing is y'all keep talking about," Kankuro whispered conspiratorially.

" _No_ ," said Shikamaru and Gaara in perfect unison. Shikamaru's voice held grim finality while Gaara's was calm and soft. The two caught each others eyes and seemed to share a moment of solidarity.

Shikako rolled her eyes and leaned forward, facing Kankuro. "It was just this curved, little-"

"'Kako, _stop. Please._ "

"-blade."

"...Blade," Shikamaru repeated slowly, squinting at her. There was a beat of silence where Shikamaru's shoulders seemed to climb up to his ears as he slouched down even further. "You're talking about the Merchant that needed a translator," Shikamaru's voice was flat.

"You aren't?"

Gaara took a slow sip from his tea. Kankuro was grinning, watching the back and forth between the twins with undisguised amusement.

Shikako eyed her brother suspiciously. _What else would I be talking abo-_

It hit her like a ton of bricks. She couldn't laugh. It would be really inappropriate to laugh right now. _Oh god, oh god she couldn't laugh._ She turned her head to eye Gaara. Said boy was still studiously focused on his drink.

She opened her mouth but Shikamaru cut her off.

"It was for slaughtering livestock. Culls and bleeds them out at the same time."

"How... _revolutionary,_ " Shikako's voice was sly. The silence that followed carried plenty of meaning.

Shikamaru sank so far into his seat that his hunched shoulders were almost level with the table. Gaara had been taking a drink for a suspiciously long time, now. There couldn't possibly be that much tea in his cup.

Shikako took a prim sip of tea without meeting anyone's eyes and Shikamaru sank the final few inches, scowling grumpily at no one. Kankuro 'tsked', but eventually he sat up and shrugged.

"You know what? If it's important, I'm sure I'll find out."

ooo

It started with Raido owing Gai a favor.

Gai called in that favor one fateful evening when he required a training partner to assist in the completion of a new technique. Raido, upstanding shinobi that he was, promptly sought _literally any way possible_ to welch on his commitment. For obvious reasons. Several unspeakable pub-crawls (and one lost bet) later, a poor, unsuspecting Greenie named Ran ended up going to train with Gai in Raido's place. Gai completed his training, but as his partner was less skilled than he had anticipated there was a bit of...collateral damage.

Look, it's a long story but the punchline was the Dango stand got utterly destroyed. Beyond all recognition. The damage surpassed "normal wreckage". The Dango stand was _ninja_ wrecked.

Thankfully no one was hurt but word got out quickly and it wasn't more than a few minutes before one Dango loving Kunoichi was on the warpath. Though Anko's rage was impressive and swift, no amount of anger or bloodletting would reopen the ruined Dango stand.

So Anko did the only sensible thing she could.

She tracked down the last Mokuton user in Konoha and shamelessly begged him to build a new one. Said Mokuton user agreed, mostly because the dark haired woman _scared_ him. The Dango stand reopened and all was right in Anko's world.

Except for the small matter of her now owing Yamato a favor.

A favor which he'd called in late last evening. Anko had thought herself pretty accomplished at avoiding responsibility when it came knocking. She made a lot of open ended promises to people and spent a lot of time dodging said people, until time wore them down and they gave up or simply forgot about her debts in the first place. Anko was perfectly ready to enter into another such arrangement with Yamato. After all, the creepy young man was obviously disturbed by her and that was half the battle won right there.

She severely underestimated his perseverance.

Yamato cornered her near the Missions Desk as she was turning in her weekly reports.

A VIP was coming to town, he explained, and Anko would escort the VIP for the duration of his stay. Anko was a bit nonplussed at Yamato's absolute insistence that she go in his place, but it sounded like a cushy gig so her complaints were halfhearted at best.

Yamato was handing over the mission scroll and signing off on his end of things when he happened to mention the VIP's name in passing. "No-No".

Kurenai, who had been turning in a report as well, overheard. Her face lit up as she jumped into the conversation excitedly. _No-No was coming to town? When would he be arriving? Was he coming to see the Jade Hand?_ Kurenai _loved_ the Jade Hand.

One thing led to another and soon Kurenai was joining the mission. Fuck it, Anko didn't care. She could probably get away with sleeping through the performance with another Jonin there.

Kurenai, bless her little head, was so official and proper about these things. Newly promoted Jonins did tend to be. She insisted on a full team, something about the "importance of the VIP" and showing that "Konoha was a cultured city that took the Arts very seriously". Anko was a bit disgruntled at how fast this thing was growing, but when Kurenai said she had a few Chunins on call that could round out their numbers, Anko shrugged it off. As long as it didn't mean any more work for her.

The mission started the next morning and Anko's team opted to meet in the lobby of their VIP's hotel. The Chunins turned out to be loaners from Kurenai's boyfriend's team. Anko made a few saucy jokes about " _sharing"_ , but Kurenai refused to take the bait. Prude.

Everything went well until they showed up to the VIP tea party and a _foreign Jinchuuriki_ was in attendance. Anko's spirits took a dip when she realized no way in hell was that nap going to happen now.

The tea party was boring as all hell and the tea they served was downright awful. Probably some kind of foofy imported shit. And don't get her started on the food. Sad, little cakes that were covered in way too much frosting and frilly shit, which tasted _nothing_ like Dango _._

At least the chubby, little Akimichi kid didn't seem to care. He was eating tea cakes like they were going out of style.

The whole party was mind-numbing. No wonder that bastard Yamato had shafted her with babysitting duty. There wasn't even any booze at the table. _The fuck kinda party is this, anyway?_

Anko amused herself for a while playing the "what gender is _that_ person?" game, which segued into a brief game of "which one would I sleep with first?". This eventually ended when Anko decided the most bangeable person was a tie between Kurenai and a boy with perfect cheekbones and a disturbing nose piercing.

So Anko drank shit tea and ate shit cakes and killed the time in bored melancholy. The only interesting conversation was happening too far away to hear, over by those Nara kids and the Jinchuuriki. It was funny how you could spot a Nara from a mile away. They never sat or stood, they just kind of propped themselves up on the nearest sturdy surface and slouched in a state of readiness. Anko snorted. Maybe Naras had things figured out.

They'd been trapped at the table for almost half an hour when a loud swell in conversation swept the table, and Anko subtly shifted, already going into high alert.

A couple had just rounded the bend in the Gardens and were slowly approaching the table. Either one on their own would have single-handedly won the "who would I bang first?" contest. Walking side by side, their beauty was striking.

Anko's assessing gaze swept their hands, their clothes, their hair, their shoulders; cataloging everything for threats. Anko's final look was sent toward Kurenai, who was smiling and already standing to greet the couple with a bow. Anko relaxed back into her seat with a groan.

More celebrities.

Blegh.

Anko wasn't really following all the pomp so she missed out on some of the particulars, but apparently the woman was a member of The Jade Hand named Nagisa and the star of their production, _The Lonely Fish Wife_. The man was Han, Nagisa's co-star.

The two were invited to sit, which they countered with an invitation of their own. _Would the honorable No-No-sama enjoy a luncheon with entertainment provided by the famed Jade Hand? No-No-sama's friends were all invited, of course._

Anko couldn't really tell if her charge was enthusiastic about the prospect, but he _did_ accept.

There was one hairy bit where a minor scuffle took place somewhere in the back between some of the Konoha kids in attendance. It resolved itself quickly enough, whatever it was, and the entire group rose to make the trek to the Jade Hand's lounge area on the top floor.

"Isn't this exciting?" Kurenai leaned over to whisper happily.

Anko grunted.

Luncheon or not, she wasn't expecting the food to be edible.

There were a bunch of delays along the way. No-No's sycophants had to reapply their make-up, another few had to use the bathroom. No-No insisted on traveling to his room first, where he exchanged his wooden duck for a wooden horse. Whatever, it was all the same to Anko.

The lounge turned out to be the entire top floor of the hotel. A temporary stage had been erected at one end of it out of sturdy, wood blocks and a rice paper backdrop. Anko made a sweep of the room before returning to her charge, satisfied the only people on the entire floor were civvies.

The group started settling down on the over-sized cushions that had been scattered near the stage.

Crew members started setting up props within easy reach and conversation dimmed in anticipation. There was a brief interruption when the food was brought out. Anko glared at the pretentious buns that were served on _actual_ cushions. Yep. The food was shit.

She grudgingly took one, huffing when the lights dimmed and Kurenai elbowed her excitedly.

 _Showtime._

ooo


End file.
